


You Don't See Straight

by annber



Series: Above the Noise [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 30
Words: 174,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annber/pseuds/annber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles finds himself in a secret werewolf community to participate in a mating run. Sterek happens. Side OC's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loaded up on Plastic Dreams

He could feel the moment he gave in. And it was insane. He knew it was. This wasn't something you were supposed to give in to. You were supposed to run. You were supposed to scream or kick or…anything really. It wasn't that he was too tired. He was acutely exhausted. But it wasn't that he  _couldn't_ fight anymore, it was that he  _didn't._  Thoughts were short and rapid in his head as he dropped down into the leaves and let his hands fall beside him. The monster between his thighs paused, blue eyes glowing as it took in the sudden change. A second passed in silence, and then the wolf tilted its head back and howled, announcing a claimed mate.

Yesterday afternoon Stiles had a normal, okay semi-normal life. Practice let out and he went for coffee just like he did every Tuesday afternoon. He felt stupid now. Raised as a sheriff's son he should have known when he was being tailed. Especially by three supernatural creatures. But he hadn't had a clue. Not even an inkling of the changes that were coming. Then again…most humans would have been as clueless as he was. Maybe even more so.

He'd fought. Sure he'd fought. But he'd always been a bit scrawny. Not to mention all the lacrosse skills in the world couldn't have helped him. Stiles thought a black belt wouldn't have helped either. No they had it down to a system and when the two wolves grabbed him, one holding a fleshy palm over his nose and mouth, they simply carried him down the street, even kicking and flailing as he was. The van took off before the door was closed and Stiles was released, scuttling backwards like a deformed crab. He panted for air desperately, eyes moving over every inch of the van. He purposely didn't look at his kidnappers. If you saw their faces your chances of dying skyrocketed, there was statistical proof. So he ducked his chin to his chest, examining his shaking knees and wondering if he'd ever catch his breath.

"Well this one's interesting," one commented, clearly amused.  
"He just doesn't want to die," another answered, laughing too loudly. At least, Stiles thought it was too loud. It could have been too loud. His ears were ringing.  
"We're not going to kill you," the first one offered, still amused, as if this was all just a game or something. "In fact, unless things go well you'll be back home in no time at all." Stiles slowly risked a glance to them, mind swirling.  
"G-Go well?"  
"Aw," the driver, a woman, let out, "he's kinda cute…in like a squirrely way."  
"Thank you?" Stiles questioned, voice shrill.  
"Just try to relax," she added, "Ross will explain everything to you when we get back."  
"Where are we going?" he had to try. The three shared a laugh, none of them bothering to answer.

Stiles lost track of time as they drove. His phone was still in his pocket but he didn't want them to know that. Not to mention they were being pretty civil so far and Stiles didn't want that to change. Not yet at least. They drove and drove. Then they drove and drove. The sun was well on its way to setting when they finally broke through trees to stop at a gate. A shiver ran down Stiles' spine.

Through the gate were several more miles of trees before the van emerged in what appeared to be a town. The van pulled to a stop outside a large brick building and the door was opened by the man closest. Stiles wasn't hauled out as he'd been expecting, instead they simply gestured for him to get out under his own power. Briefly he debated staying in just to spite them but they were still being civil. Taking a deep breath and shaking his head quickly, Stiles climbed out. He was ushered into the building before he saw anyone else. It was a twisting trail of hallways before the two people in front of him stopped, leaving a door in Stiles' path. Stalling for a moment, contemplating his impending death, Stiles turned the knob.

He had to admit, he didn't expect his murderer to be a horologist. Or at least, the office he'd stepped into looked like it could belong to one. Stiles hurried another glance around the room. It  _was_ an office, just covered in lush green life from almost every angle.  
"Mr. Stilinski," a voice called pleasantly, "please, take a seat." Stiles glanced at all the plants again before carefully picking his way to the chairs. He took the one that didn't have a rotund cactus already sitting on it. A plant behind the desk swayed and a man emerged, brushing off his suit jacket quickly. "I'm Ross Ramsey. It's a pleasure to meet you." He took a seat and folded his arms on the desk, offering Stiles a smile.

Stiles found himself staring. Ross' blue eyes were kinder than they should have been. At least, he reasoned they were. The hair on the top of his head was gray but his beard was orange and Stiles thought that even in a normal situation he would find this man, his beard mainly, creepy. Most of the lines on his face looked like they were from laughing and Stiles imagined the Joker's maniacal laugh before he could stop himself.  
"Um…" he croaked, "hi?"  
"Ah yes I'm sure you're a bit," Ross paused to wiggle his fingers, "thrown right now. I am sorry about all the intrigue but I am afraid it was necessary." Stiles stared at him some more.

"Is this a joke?" Ross' head tilted to the side as he smiled uncomprehendingly. "Aren't you going to like kill me?" Stiles demanded. "Or maim me? Are you going to plant me to death? What is this?" This was not what happened to kidnap victims in the movies, or comic books, or ever really. He was mostly sure. Ross simply smiled again in response.  
"No need for anything so dramatic. You'll simply be staying with us for a little while."  
"Us?" Stiles questioned, blinking rapidly.  
"Werewolves," Ross said simply, his grin showing all of his teeth, "the lot of us."

There was a beat of perfect silence before Stiles laughed.  
"Yeah," he muttered, laughing as he spoke, "yeah okay. Who put you up to this? Scott? Jackson? Where even are we? Oh wait- where are the cameras? Behind the plants? They are aren't they? Ha! This is too good. Man. Hey how much did Jackson offer to pay you? Ross Ramsey by the way? You sound like the new host of Blue's Clues." He swiped at a plant, checking for recording equipment.  
"Neither your best friend nor your," Ross paused, flicking open a folder, "team captain had anything to do with this."  
"Oh right. It's no fun if I figure it out that fast huh?" He shoved out of his chair. "You want me to go out and come back in? We can just edit that part out huh?"  
"Mr. Stilinski," Ross called sharply, "sit.  _Now._ " Frowning, Stiles sat back down slowly. "You meet a very specific criteria Mr. Stilinski. One that we have trouble finding." Stiles nodded, mostly to play along with this maniac who somehow had a following of people willing to do what he said.

He gaped at the next words out of Ross' mouth, "No sexual activity and a higher than average interest in bestiality. Quite a bit higher I would say." Stiles had only managed a few choking sounds before he continued. "Nothing to be ashamed of Mr. Stilinski. It's a good thing here. Better chance of you being claimed. Much better chance."  
"Claimed?" Stiles squawked, mortification thrumming through every inch of him. He wouldn't say he was  _interested_. He just found it oddly fascinating, that was all. Wasn't it? Okay so he'd had one or maybe two dreams but he couldn't control that could he? Of course not.  
"Tomorrow's the full moon," Ross explained simply. "We have mating runs four times a year."  
" _Mating runs_? What? Wait how do you even know all this stuff about me? What does werewolf mating have to do with me? Are you clinically  _insane_?" the words spilled off his lips rapidly as he struggled to drag in enough oxygen to keep talking.

"Mr. Stilinski do we need to sedate you?" Stiles gave a choking huff at that, eyes bulging. "If you are not claimed, if you do not agree to be claimed, nothing will happen. You will be returned home."  
"Yeah you're just going to let me go. Sure. I buy that. Yeah."  
"Who would believe you?"  
"S-Someone," Stiles muttered petulantly.  
"Good luck with that," Ross smirked. Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, thinking of the Joker again. "Now," Ross continued, "You can go meet the other humans and get settled in."  
"Other humans?"  
"You didn't think you were the only one, surely?" Stiles began shaking his head back and forth.  
"No," he exhaled. "No you cannot be serious right now. No. I refuse for you to be serious."  
"I assure you, I am perfectly serious. We have a small community here. Animals does not mean inbreeding."

That left Stiles with absolutely nothing to say. Ross blinked at him a few times. "They'll show you where to go," he added finally. Stiles rushed to stand when he realized he was being dismissed, the toe of his sneaker hitting a tiny pot he hadn't even seen and sending it skittering across the floor. He stared at it for a moment before rushing out, not daring a glance at Ross. Stiles wondered if he thought he'd actually explained everything. He still had a million questions. He'd only have a billion more once he actually accepted whatever the hell was going on around him. What even was going on? He ran a hand over his head quickly. This was insane. He fell into step between the three… _wolves_  that had brought him, letting them guide him wordlessly.  
"Have fun," one offered, stopping in front of two giant doors. The man on the other side of him pulled one open and Stiles stepped through. Eight heads turned to him. He took a deep breath. Humans. Right. They could figure this out.

Two hours later Stiles was ready to scream. No one had any hope of escape. At all. Logan, a redhead dotted with freckles, didn't even  _want_ to escape. He couldn't wait to meet his werewolf soul mate. He couldn't wait to 'take the knot' either. Stiles felt sick at that, especially the dopey look in his eyes when he said it. Didn't he realize that shit was going to hurt? Stiles shook the thought off. It wasn't like he'd agree to anything. They said if he didn't agree… But they could be lying. Kidnappers and cults lied all the time. Stiles focused on the people around him again, before he could go off on a tangent about cults in cloaks and possibly Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Along with himself and Logan there was one other boy and five girls. From what Stiles could tell they were all around the same age. Which made this all kinds of illegal. But no one here seemed to care about that either. Taylor might but he barely spoke and rolled his grey eyes a lot. Stiles crossed him off his alley list. The girls were all grouped together and Stiles was still trying to figure out the best way to approach them when he remembered his cell phone. They hadn't even searched him. He grinned stupidly and shot a glance to Logan, wondering if the boy would tell on him. Stiles could be covert about this. He knew he could. Everything was going to be fine.

Stiles didn't move immediately. First he glanced around the room again. It was mostly a big empty space, two sets of doors in the front and back and bathrooms to the right of the front doors. The tables were off to the left side. He laid his hand over the rectangle in his pocket, giving it a squeeze and sighing in relief. He had already known it was there but the actual feel of it was still reassuring. He let several moments pass in silence, listening to the murmur of the girls' voices. Finally he pushed out of his chair and crossed to the back left corner before sinking against the wall. His right thigh was pressed into the corner and he dropped his right hand down casually. It was going to be fine. He could do this. He pressed his back against the wall and scooted forward, letting his legs loosen. Ever so slowly he inched his fingertips forward, grasping at the corner of his phone. He pulled it out just as slowly, looking at his chest rising and falling rather than his hand. Only when he had his phone resting squarely in his palm, hidden by his leg, did he glance down. It was the same relief as before, shooting through him and blooming in his chest. He unlocked it with his thumb quickly, taking in the lit up screen with eager eyes. Stiles' entire body froze as he stared at it.  _No service_. No. No this couldn't be happening. But it was there in plain white letters in the upper corner.  _No service._

He let his head fall back to the wall with a heavy 'thunk' of sound. Of course. Of course they wouldn't search him because they didn't need to. Wherever the hell they were they were far enough into the wilderness to not have any cell service so it didn't matter that he had a phone. It was about as useful as a rock. A thin, not even heavy enough to hurt someone rock. It was a long time before Stiles shoved his phone back in his pocket and managed to get to his feet.  
"No service," Taylor muttered as he sat down, shoving golden waves out of his face. Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.  
"No shit Sherlock." Taylor smiled slowly.  
"Surfed one too many bestiality sites huh?" Stiles felt heat rise in his cheeks.  
"Guess so. You?"  
"Vet was a poor career choice," Taylor returned before falling silent again.  
"Sounds like an excuse," Stiles muttered honestly.  
"I got written up at the kennel I work at and nearly fired for trying to separate two dogs too early. I was trying to determine the average time before…they could be separated."  
"Couldn't you have just asked?" Taylor scoffed, crossing his arms and shooting a glance to Logan. He winced before looking to the floor.  
"I  _thought_ doing my own research was the better choice."

Stiles didn't expect himself to laugh and after a few seconds he honestly felt bad.  
"Looks like you learned that lesson the hard way."  
"Either that or I'm about to," Taylor said darkly. Stiles somehow couldn't gather the courage to ask him what he meant so they sat in silence until Taylor decided to elaborate on his own. "I don't know anything about werewolves," he murmured very quietly, "but I know wolves don't take kindly to animals below them not submitting." This sent an abrupt shiver over Stiles' skin. He already had the thought that maybe Ross was employing a bit of deception. "Bad enough if a Beta decides not to submit but you and I are not Betas. We're Omegas at best."  
"Omegas?"  
"The lowest of the low. An Omega offering anything other than total submission is asking for death."  
"So if we're claimed…" He couldn't finish the sentence. Taylor met his eyes directly and had no trouble.  
"Submit or die."

Stiles settled back into the chair, blowing out a huge sigh. He ran his hand over his head hard, wincing as he did.  
"Well this sucks ass," he exhaled shortly.  
"Could always stick close to Logan and trip him when the time is right." Stiles gasped and laughed at the same time, nearly choking.  
"Be doing him a favor really," he managed after a moment.  
"If I was Mary Sunshine over there," Taylor added, jerking a thumb towards one of the blondes, "I'd be thinking that a super hot female was going to claim me and we'd live happily ever after."  
"Are females running?" Stiles questioned quickly, hope inflating in his chest.  
"Don't know. I don't think they can breed with humans though." He shrugged quickly. "Maybe they can. But I have the feeling they wouldn't be bringing humans in at all if they didn't have to. Maybe they're desperate."  
"Why?"  
"Most likely? There aren't enough females around. The males would fight over what few there were and it would be bloodshed. So they bring in more…options."

His head fell into his hand again.  
"So there aren't females running."  
"If that's the case," Taylor muttered. It was clear he thought it was. "I haven't seen a single female since I got here."  
"I saw one," Stiles offered. Three to one wasn't a great ratio anyways.  
"Mm," Taylor added noncommittally. The conversation more or less died off after that as Taylor resumed his silence. Stiles tried to keep the buzzing in his head down to a minimum. He tried to be glad that at least Taylor appeared sane, unlike the rest of the humans around him. He tried to do a lot of things but mostly he was scared. He couldn't help a rather sick sense of dread. Yeah he was a virgin and while that had always seemed like something he'd wanted to get rid of…it had never seemed like it was going to be taken from him. Forcefully, painfully taken from him. He didn't want to think about it but his mind kept circling back, sending a shudder down his spine each time.

Not even the sight of food being wheeled in for them could comfort him. It smelled wonderful and Stiles realized he'd only had an apple for lunch. He was starving but still, the whole kidnapped and soon to be 'claimed' put a bit of a damper on it. The whole situation was kind of a damper actually. He dropped next to Taylor again as the scraps were wheeled back out.  
"We just stay here?"  
"They'll wheel cots in soon. Want us nice and rested for tomorrow."  
"Tomorrow?" Stiles questioned, dread inching higher.  
"They've been running us. Like dogs," Taylor said, looking away as his lips twisted.  
"Why?"  
"Guessing again," Taylor let out, "but the further we run the more exciting the hunt is."  
"Fantastic." Stiles blew out a heavy sigh and settled his hands on his knees. "So what if we just don't run?"  
"Big ass wolves chasing you and you're just going to sit down?"  
"Yeah I guess not," Stiles muttered.

Taylor was on point yet again as cots were wheeled in for them before Stiles had totally lost his mind. "This is so surreal," Stiles grumbled, dropping down onto a cot that was still folded. Taylor spared him a glance before yanking his cot to the far side of the room.  
"Isn't it great?" Logan sighed, smiling. Stiles scrambled back to his feet and followed after Taylor, not daring to glance behind him.  
"I actually want to sleep Stiles."  
"I'll shut up Taylor."  
"You talk more than my kid step brother."  
"Thank you," Stiles huffed. Stiles thought that would at least earn him a chuckle but Taylor remained silent. "Okay I'll seriously shut up," he added after another moment.  
"Promising to shut up is not shutting up," Taylor allowed dryly. Stiles literally had to bite his lips to keep from replying but he managed it. Somehow.

It took Stiles a long time to sleep and then he only woke with a nudge from Taylor. He sat up and wiped his eyes, following Taylor's gesture to a table with food on it. Stiles sighed and rubbed his head, giving himself a few more minutes before he forced himself to move. They were given plenty of time to eat and use the bathrooms before they were ushered out the back doors. Stiles stopped as soon as he saw all the people- _werewolves_  gathered behind the building. Taylor slammed into his back before sighing and pushing him forward. "We don't want to find out what happens if we don't run. They won't bite. Yet."  
"Yeah thanks," Stiles hissed in response, his air supply threatening to cut off.  
"Alright!" Ross called out, clapping his hands together. Stiles wondered if he was even trying to contain his joy. "Go on then."  
"Which direction?" a brunette girl asked.  
"Whichever direction you please," Ross said, smiling broadly. "The wolves," there were howls at this, "are released at moonrise. You all," he paused to chuckle, "are released now." They all remained where they were, staring at him. "I would advise to use your energy wisely but the more you make the wolves work the more tired they will be when they find you." Stiles roughly translated tired to less rabid in his head. By the wary shifting of the people closest to him, they did too. "So you should at least start now," Ross told them slowly, smile finally falling. Stiles was the first to move forward, Taylor was right behind him, grabbing his elbow.  
"Walk," he breathed in his ear, "don't give them the satisfaction."  
"Not yet at least," Stiles agreed.

Stiles didn't know how night had fallen so quickly. He remembered splitting apart from Taylor, which must have been mid afternoon. Staying together just seemed like a bad idea all the way around so they hadn't. Stiles kept to the left, towards a giant hill where he was hoping to find reception, and Taylor went right. Stiles was trying to move faster now, picking through the trees at what was almost a jog. He pushed worries for Taylor away firmly and kept going. A chorus of howls hit the air and Stiles noticed the moon on the horizon for the first time. He realized something rather suddenly then. Even if he got reception up on the hill, 911 would never believe him. His father was still hours away, an unknown amount of hours away. Not to mention he had no idea how a whole settlement of werewolves would react to one squad car rolling up. His father would be outnumbered. That was  _such_ an understatement. He couldn't call for help. Even if he could, he couldn't. Stiles' feet stopped and then he was lost in more ways than one. He didn't have a plan. He didn't know what direction to go in. He was completely screwed. More howls sounded, disturbingly closer, and Stiles flew into action. It was difficult to see in the dark and he couldn't stop in time to avoid falling into the stream. He choked on a gasp as his body surged back up in an effort to escape. The water was frigid. They must be much further north than Beacon Hills. For a moment he wondered if they could have crossed the border. He shuddered again before forcing himself through the stream and onto the other side.

Time was running out and he knew it but Stiles couldn't help but give himself a few moments lying on the ground, panting for air as his entire body shuddered so hard his vision shook. The creature was so quiet he hadn't even heard the approach. The hand on his shoulder earned a shriek that Stiles would deny later. He rolled to his hands and knees, chest constricting as he stared something that was definitely not human. It was  _huge_. Its mammoth body caught somewhere between human and wolf and somehow both and neither at the same time. Green eyes stared at him unblinkingly and then the beast shifted forward. Stiles shoved to his feet with energy he hadn't known he had, adrenaline he supposed, and ran. He ran without fear of falling. He ran without even paying attention to the branches slapping and snagging at his body. He ran like he'd never run before, unable to keep from wondering if he ran like this at practice if he'd still be on the bench. This was such a great time to be thinking about lacrosse. Another time he would have huffed out a laugh. As it was he kept running.

He didn't see it until it was too late. It was dark and the second beast slunk from the shadows much too quietly. In a pure panic he tried to skid to a stop, falling painfully as his ankle twisted. His left shoulder hit the ground first as he pitched forward, unable to even lift his arms to protect himself. The only thing he was able to do before it was too late was flop onto his back. The first wolf was at his feet, eyes still glowing green. Stiles risked a glance up to the second wolf. It could have been smaller. His dark hair blended too well with the night and Stiles couldn't tell. The thing he was caught on were the striking blue eyes. He laid there panting for several moments, not even thinking enough to try and plan. He'd been worried about getting caught by one wolf, what was he supposed to do now? He wondered if one would wait until he was done fighting the first to try and claim him. A shiver worked through him. A growl erupted above him and he flinched, covering his ears and crying out as his shoulder throbbed. The wolf at his feet edged back before tilting his head to the side oddly. Another growl sounded and the green eyed wolf ran. Ridiculously, Stiles panicked seeing him go.

He didn't move, still panting for air as his body tensed. It was suddenly too quiet and all he could hear was his own shuddering breaths and pounding heartbeat. He craned his neck up to look, wincing at the resulting pain. The twisted face was mere inches from his own. An unwilling sound, nearly a whimper, slipped out. He scrambled against the ground, moving slowly and clumsily. He knew there was no chance of escape. His body hadn't caught up yet. The wolf let him go and he made it to a sitting position before stopping again. Heat flared into his shoulder oddly and he groaned before looking to the wolf again. Of course, the wolf was watching him. He moved forward smoothly, even though the posture was totally alien to Stiles. The wolf crouched right in front of him, limbs caging Stiles' legs.

He stopped there, just watching him. Stiles couldn't help the hope that he would change his mind, that he would decide he didn't want him after all. But when had he ever been that lucky? The wolf leaned forward, nudging at his chin, forcing his head up and back. Stiles remembered the other wolf tilting his head back. It was a sign of submission. Stiles blanched, shoving at him and trying to force his head back down.  
"No," he managed shallowly, "no get off me." The wolf issued a quiet growl and Stiles' breathing stuttered. He nudged Stiles' chin again. "N-No," Stiles protested. He shoved at the impossibly broad shoulders, the sinews and muscles sliding under his hand, the body immobile. Stiles cursed his total lack of upper arm strength. "Get  _off_ me!" This protest was returned with another growl and nip at his jaw.

Stiles yelped before pushing at him again. There wasn't any pain from the bite; it was more surprise than anything. There was another soft growl. " _No_ ," Stiles repeated sternly. "Get off." He smacked at a shoulder, recoiling from the fur he encountered. "B-Bad dog!" he hissed desperately. "Bad dog! Off!" The next growl was deeper. Dog references were not a good idea then. "Fine, fine, just get off." Another growl. He had the feeling the wolf was getting impatient with him. Good. "Not happening. No. Absolutely not." A clawed hand settled on his hip before pulling him closer. Stiles managed to pull a leg up before kicking whatever he could reach. In the tiny gap that was created he managed to stumble to his feet, desperate adrenaline fueling his body. He tried to run, groaning when he fell into a tree instead. He gripped at it uselessly as the wolf stepped in front of him. He had a few inches on Stiles upright, of course he did. For a moment, just a moment, Stiles wondered what the human underneath looked like. "Look buddy this is  _not_ happening. I'm injured and c-cold and you are not g-getting laid tonight!" The wolf smirked down at him, crowding him even further into the tree. "No." Did that sound weaker? Was it just him?

But how could you even argue with someone who just growled at you? In any case it wasn't even arguing, it was just Stiles saying no in every way he could think of. "S-Seriously. No." The wolf growled again, low in his throat, leaning even closer. "I have to agree," Stiles exhaled shakily, "and I d-don't." The wolf didn't seem to be listening because he ripped Stiles' shirt wide open. Stiles started to protest, cutting off as his back slammed into the tree. He whimpered when he had enough oxygen to. The wolf paused, breaths sliding over Stiles' exposed throat. He moved back slowly, eyes on Stiles' face. His hand reached out, tilting Stiles chin up almost gently. "Don't," he protested weakly, fear finally sliding into his system. The wolf tucked his face rather neatly into the juncture of Stiles' neck and Stiles went perfectly still. The beast stilled too, standing pressed against him, breathing into his skin. For a moment everything was turned upside down. The moment was quiet and intimate. Their bodies lined up together were nothing like Stiles could have imagined they would be. He was so  _warm_. Stiles relaxed automatically, rigid muscles loosening. The hand slowly slid from his chin and the wolf pulled back again. Stiles stayed as he was. A howl sounded in the distance and while Stiles flinched, the wolf turned towards the sound, lips curving in a snarl.

It wasn't his brightest move. Stiles ran. He was half naked, freezing, and in pain, but he ran. The wolf growled the loudest yet and for a second Stiles thought he was going to cry. He was tackled from behind, hard. Gritting his teeth Stiles struggled onto his back, half surprised when the beast let him. He didn't have time to catch his breath before a heavy hand was on his throat, limiting his air. The wolf loomed over him, snarling teeth inches away. Evidently, he'd lost his patience. Stiles squirmed, pushing at the wolf's chest with his right arm. He received another snarl and then the wolf's other hand was shoving at his forehead, pushing his head back into the dirt and exposing his throat. The hand there moved down to the top of his chest and the wolf watched as he struggled to breathe. Stiles squirmed again and found himself unable to move. He closed his eyes and sighed. There was no other outward sign of it but he supposed it didn't matter. He struggled a bit longer, maybe just on principle, lifting his body as much as he could and trying to move. He was done fighting.

The howl was still ringing in his ears and he couldn't think straight. Things started moving too quickly for him to keep up. The wolf manipulated his body easily, needing no help from Stiles as he was positioned on hands and knees. His jeans were torn away and his thighs were shoved further apart. Stiles whined unwillingly, toes curling. He'd already known this was coming; it shouldn't be affecting him like this. More than anything he tried not to think of the videos he'd watched. There was no way this wasn't going to hurt…no way. He bit at his lips as he cringed. There was a soft touch at his thigh and he jumped, whining again. A huff of breath at his tailbone had his spine curving down as he sought escape. Stiles closed his eyes and there was a touch at his spine, it didn't feel like a hand…it was a kiss. The wolf pressed over him; head halfway up his back, chest at his thighs. For several moments nothing happened. Stiles' mind swirled. He tried to think of wolf behavior, not that he knew much. He couldn't come up with anything. Why stop? What was this? The pad of a thumb skated half up his ribs before disappearing. It repeated the motion before vanishing again. That was when it clicked in his head. The wolf was trying to soothe him.

He rejected the idea almost immediately. That couldn't be right. It really couldn't. This was an animal. A creature. He wasn't human. He couldn't be stopping for him. The thumb stalled before slowing, as if he was reading Stiles' mind. Or he was checking on Stiles' vitals. That seemed much more reasonable. And he was half human. So it was…possible he supposed. It was possible. Stiles wished he hadn't had the thought at all. He was softening, not just his body. He thought that the wolf actually cared. It didn't just want sex. There was no way for him to know for sure. But he couldn't take back the thought. There was suddenly a tongue sliding down his spine and Stiles jumped, gasping. The thumb that had been on his ribs skated down, down, down, until it was teasing at the cleft of his ass. He gasped again, unable to stop it. The wolf growled but this was more of a pleased sound and Stiles liked it. He liked it more than the others at least. It seemed like an important distinction. Cold slid over his skin as the wolf pulled back and Stiles' legs were pulled even further apart. There was only one exhale against him in warning before something hot and slick was pressing right against his hole.

Stiles tried to pull away, inhaling sharply in the wolf's hold. The wolf's tongue slipped inside and okay that was  _definitely_ weird. His toes curled in his sneakers again as the tongue seemed to inch even further inside. A high whine slid from his teeth and Stiles wasn't even sure which of the emotions shooting off in his brain had prompted it. The tongue pulled out and Stiles could feel his muscles start to give off spasms in reaction. He felt colder, shockingly so. It was nearly a relief when the tongue returned. Stiles winced even as he had to whine. It was terrible to think that. Wasn't it? Maybe it wasn't terrible maybe it was- "Fuck!" he yelped as the wolf nipped his behind suddenly. The pain was soothed by several licks and Stiles' hands dug into the leaves as he tried to catch his breath. "N-Not cool okay?" There was no response, not that he'd really expected one. The wolf nipped again and Stiles jerked before reaching back to try and swat him away. His breath cut off as his wrist was caught firmly in a very warm hand. He gave a cautious pull, blowing out a sigh as he was held. "Oh my god! What are you  _doing_?" Stiles yelled as the wolf's tongue lapped over his fingers, wet saliva dripping down the digits. Stiles was yanked back by his arm, in the wolf's lap before he fully realized his body was in motion. The wolf's blue eyes, drilling right into him, watched him as he continued licking over Stiles' fingers, teeth gliding against them briefly.

Stiles shivered in his hold, face heating. This was definitely…weirder. The wolf used the hand that wasn't keeping Stiles' wrist prisoner to finish ripping away his jeans and boxers. He lifted Stiles' left leg and hooked it over his lap, pulling Stiles open in front of him. Stiles' cheeks burned hotter and he was intensely glad he couldn't take his eyes off the wolf's. At least he wasn't cold anymore. The wolf was so hot, literally radiating heat, that Stiles' muscles couldn't choose between tensing and relaxing. Nearly everything the wolf did had him tensing but once Stiles had accepted the new action, he relaxed again. The wolf guided his hand down, away from his mouth. Stiles shuddered, taking in the claws on the wolf's hands for the first time. He dropped Stiles' hand between his legs and Stiles' eyes dropped down to his naked lap. It took a few seconds. "I-I've only once…" he babbled before biting his tongue.  _And it hurt_  he added mentally. The wolf pushed his hand closer to his body. Stiles glanced to his claws again. He supposed he didn't have much choice.

He took a deep breath. He could do this. He could totally do this. What virgin didn't know how to finger themselves in front of a werewolf? "Oh my  _god_ ," he breathed, resisting the urge to slap himself. The wolf nuzzled at his neck for just a second before taking hold of his hand. He scooted closer, spreading Stiles' legs further in the same motion. For a moment all Stiles could hear was his own breathing as the wolf guided his hand forward. His fingertip pushed past the tight ring of muscle and he couldn't help a muffled groan, free hand digging into the dirt, clutching at it. The wolf held his hand tightly, pausing. "This isn't going to work," Stiles mumbled, "p-please…this won't work." The wolf simply blinked a few times as he regarded him. He leaned forward and licked at Stiles' throat, grazing his teeth along it in a way that could have been teasing or threatening. Stiles couldn't decide. He huffed out a breath, sagging into the heat in front of him. A surprised whimper pushed out of his lips as the wolf shoved his finger the rest of the way in, holding his hand still. Stiles' body tensed again and he whimpered again at the resulting pain. The wolf went back to his neck, licking and even sucking small patches of skin. Stiles let his head fall to the wolf's shoulder, surrendering to the strangeness of the situation. It was impossible to know how much time had passed before his body relaxed. It didn't hurt so much and Stiles managed to stay quiet when the wolf withdrew his hand and pushed it forward again.

It was still painful and it still definitely felt strange but Stiles realized he should be glad that the wolf was taking so much time with him. Maybe it was normal? Stiles doubted it for reasons he couldn't identify. Werewolves were still animals. It didn't make sense. Yet he was doing it. He tilted his head slightly, sneaking a glance. Again he wondered about the human beneath the wolf. He had to be strong to control the wolf. He had to be kind. Stiles lifted himself slightly, wincing at the change in position. The wolf nuzzled him again, licking once. Stiles pulled his head up, meeting the wolf's gaze once again. He blushed. He wanted…he almost wanted to thank him. And how stupid was that? He managed the tiniest smile, feeling ridiculous for that too. The wolf reached a hand up to his chin and Stiles felt his chest tighten. He thought it was probably a bad idea; he tilted his chin back anyways. The wolf growled before moving to Stiles' throat and biting. He only bit hard enough to hold on; growling again and making the skin vibrate as goose bumps shot up. The wolf moved his hand again and Stiles fell against him. It was achingly slow the way the wolf used his own hand to stretch him open. Stiles was the one who added the second finger, growing impatient with the wolf, ridiculous as that was. He didn't have to convince himself it felt good. After the initial pain pleasure actually began to spark under his fingers. He began rocking his hips into his hand, breath hitching. His eyes squeezed closed and he realized with a start, as his cock brushed against his stomach, that he was hard. "Oh," he managed quietly.

The wolf nudged at him, nearly knocking him over. Before Stiles had managed to say anything he nudged at him again, harder. Stiles fell backwards, hand slipping free as he did. He managed a slight sound of protest as he was rolled onto his stomach and pulled up by the hips. He immediately tensed up. He wasn't ready. Not nearly. He couldn't be. Something pressed against him and he squirmed, struggling to take a breath. The wolf pressed forward slow, his hands firm on Stiles' hips, the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut again and clutched at the ground. He tried to breathe. It hadn't been so bad once he relaxed, he just needed to relax. It would be fine. It wouldn't but he was allowed to delude himself for now. A pained sound slid from Stiles' teeth as what must have only been the tip slid inside. It felt huge and his body tensed up without his permission. He couldn't help a whimper at the burn that began. The wolf paused again, panting above him. Stiles took in a few shallow breaths. He just had to get used to it. He just had to relax. Stiles dropped to one elbow, exhaling as he moved his free hand to wrap around his cock. He stroked quickly, exhaling again in surprise. Okay that didn't feel terrible. He stroked again and groaned, biting his lip when the wolf pushed in further. He gritted his teeth as the entire lower half of his body tensed again. The wolf paused again and Stiles huffed out another sigh.

This seemed like a horrible way for him to lose his virginity. Not that he hadn't had the thought before but now it seemed especially unavoidable. He started stroking again, fast and desperate, the way he knew he liked. The wolf just kept rocking against him, inching forward slowly. Stiles paused as he finally felt thighs pressing against his own. "Thank  _god_ ," he exhaled. The wolf growled against his neck, pulling back and thrusting in. Stiles cried out as he came, every muscle tensing as his breathing cut off. He couldn't help tremors running through him as he dropped down to his elbows. The wolf growled again, stopping after a few thrusts. Stiles would have questioned it but he didn't have to, something started pressing inside him. The wolf was swelling. He pulled in a breath and gritted his teeth. The wolf leaned onto his back, licking at his neck. Stiles let his eyes close as a few more tremors ran through him at the feel of the wolf's tongue. A hand landed on top of his right and Stiles jumped slightly. He hadn't been expecting that. The wolf's other hand landed on his hip and as the wolf started moving back he pulled Stiles with him. He didn't have much choice, he went with him. The wolf moved him slowly and Stiles couldn't help a few whimpers as the knot pulled at his unwilling flesh. Eventually he was settled in the wolf's lap again, the wolf's arms wrapped firmly around his back. The wolf panted into his skin, exhaling sharply before biting his throat. Stiles jerked under him, jerking again as he felt heat shooting into his body.

"Oh my god," he managed on a whisper. It just kept coming, spurt after spurt. It was hot inside his body, higher than his own temperature. His body started shuddering again as pleasure started rolling through every inch of him. The wolf released his throat and warm blood was trickling down his neck and Stiles should  _not_ be aroused right now. But he was. Whatever was happening was just fine with his body. Maybe more than fine. His hands clenched and unclenched as his cock twitched, threatening to fill again. "Nn," he managed, "god…" A smooth tongue was at his neck, lapping up the blood. A hand skated around his back and down into his lap. Stiles looked down in shock to see a human hand. He looked up to blazing blue eyes. The wolf, a bit more of a man now, smirked at him, blood drawing the lines of his teeth dark. He'd evidently been paying more attention than Stiles thought because he stroked along the too sensitive flesh mercilessly, faster than Stiles ever could. "Fuck, please- _god_ ," Stiles panted brokenly. It was only a dizzying handful of moments later before he was coming again, unable to breathe with the intensity of it.

He wasn't sure how long it was before he managed to move. Lifting himself off the wolf's shoulder wrung a groan from him and he blinked a few times before looking to him again. The wolf's lips twitched and Stiles realized he was back to human form. Only the blue eyes remained. They still glowed or Stiles would have thought they were his normal color.  
"Hey," he breathed. Stiles wanted to laugh but he didn't think he had the energy.  
"Hi," he returned instead. He leaned into the man wrapped around him, too tired to feel awkward or embarrassed now. A hand crept up his neck and cradled the back of his head.  
"Fuzzy," the man muttered. Stiles smiled slightly.  
"Sorry."  
"Nah I like it…feels good." Stiles managed a soft chuckle and the man pulled him closer. He drifted off, brain buzzing with questions about who this man was.


	2. Coming Undone at the Seams

Stiles woke up in a dim room, a curtain around his narrow bed. He sat up slowly and for the longest moment he didn't remember a thing. Then he tried to stand and the ache brought all the memories rushing to the surface. Getting kidnapped. Werewolves. Taylor. The wolf. His cheeks heated even as he forced himself to his feet and pulled the curtain back slowly. It reminded him of the nurse's office at school. There were a few more beds, three with curtains drawn. Stiles took a breath before stepping outside the bounds of his own curtain. No one stopped him and he was surprised but still made his way towards the door. A soft groan, followed by a  
"Shhh, you're alright," stopped him. He moved to the closed curtain diagonal from his bed. It took him a few moments to peek around the curtain, when he saw the mop of golden curls he yanked it back.  
"Taylor?" he demanded, voice shooting up several octaves. Taylor jumped before groaning and looking to him slowly. Stiles rushed forward, barely noticing a red headed girl glaring at him from the other side of the bed. "What happened? Jesus! Are you okay?" He chuckled shallowly but the sound did nothing to relieve Stiles.  
"I fell out of a tree," he said, "and then I got fucked by a werewolf."  
"Why were you in a tree?" Stiles demanded, eyeing the scrapes on his face and the cast on his arm again.  
"Seemed like a good idea while I was panicking." Stiles winced. "I didn't really make the connection that wolves can't climb trees…werewolves can."  
"It's alright," the girl insisted, "none of us knew what to think."  
"It was a dumbass move," Taylor sighed, "you can say so Aubrey." She shifted hair over her shoulder before crossing her arms.  
"You can't take blame for things that happen to you," she said simply.  
"Who's gonna take the blame then?" Taylor questioned. "The guy already feels bad enough."  
"You met him?" Stiles cut in. Taylor cleared his throat and looked away.  
"Yeah," he said eventually, "I met him."

Silence fell for a few moments until Taylor spoke again. "Aubrey met hers too." Aubrey flushed at the mention, chin ducking.  
"Can we not talk about that right now?" she questioned softly.  
"I don't want to talk about me either," Taylor muttered, lying back against the pillows again.  
"So what's gonna happen now?"  
"I get to stay in the infirmary for a while."  
"I guess I'm leaving soon," Aubrey offered. Stiles didn't ask his next question aloud.  _So what about me?_  
"Okay so…seen any good movies lately?" Stiles asked lamely. Aubrey chuckled and Taylor managed a smile.  
"Good morning Mr. Stilinski," Ross called, entering the curtain and smiling broadly.  
"Let's get you checked out by the doctor shall we?"  
"Uh…okay," Stiles agreed hesitantly. The doctor was nice. He had a smile that instantly relaxed Stiles, especially the way it reached all the way up to his blue eyes.  
"I think you're going to be just fine Stiles," he said, tucking his pen behind his ear and smiling again. "Minor strained ankle, a contusion on the left shoulder, a fully healed mark. You're one of my best patients."  
"Yay," Stiles managed dryly.  
"Trust me you got off lucky. Kind of surprising actually," his smile fell off and he looked away for a moment before pasting on an even brighter smile. "In any case," he added, "I'm going to release you."  
"That's good right?" The doctor just smiled before patting Stiles' knee and pushing off his stool. It did little to comfort Stiles.

Of course, Ross was waiting for him. Stiles didn't know if he expected something else.  
"You ready to meet your mate?" Stiles swallowed, even though his throat was incredibly dry.  
"Sure," he said slowly, a thin sense of dread swamping him. Why hadn't he met him yet? Why had Stiles been asleep so long when he wasn't seriously injured? They left what Stiles guessed was the infirmary wing and turned to the left before going into the second door on the right. A man was pacing back and forth in the small room, stopping as the door opened, back to them.  
"I  _told_ you Ramsey, send him home."  
"And I told you Mr. Hale," Ross responded pleasantly, "it's too late for that." Stiles wondered if Ross called anyone by their first name.  
"I don't want him," he spat, turning to them suddenly. His face was tight with what looked a lot like rage and Stiles couldn't recognize the man from before at all. This was… _he_  was something completely different. He was the most surprised to see that his eyes weren't blue. "Send him home."  
"You agreed to our rules Mr. Hale. We welcomed you in and you agreed." He went absolutely rigid at that and Stiles took a step back unintentionally. "Stop scaring your mate," Ross snapped. For just a second there was a flicker of something softer, but that was cleared away too. Ross looked back to Stiles. "Stiles this is Derek. Derek this is Stiles."  
"Does this normally happen?" Stiles questioned as Derek eyed him up and down before scoffing and turning away.  
"Each case is different," Ross said, watching Derek with a slight frown.  
"Yeah that sounds like bullshit."  
"Derek will come around."  
"Why can't I just go home? My dad is freaking out; he doesn't want me, why do I need to stay?"  
"You cannot separate. You will get sick separated from your mate." That made Stiles pause.  
"What?"  
"It's not an option Mr. Stilinski."  
"So I'm just stuck here for the rest of my life?" Stiles yelled, "What about my dad? I'm supposed to let him think I'm dead?"  
"If you still want to leave in three months, no one will stop you."  
"Three months?" He was yelling again. Someone pulled on his arm, there was a pinch, then nothing.

He woke up back in the infirmary. He simply laid in bed for a long time. He couldn't find the will to get out of bed. Eventually he went in search of a bathroom, stopping at Taylor's bed on the way back. "Hey," he offered softly. Taylor shifted slowly, one eyebrow raised.  
"Hey," he echoed, "what's up?"  
"I might have lost it a bit," Stiles admitted. He drifted in and took the empty chair. "Where's…Aubrey?"  
"She left with her mate. He's pretty hot." Stiles managed a smile.  
"Yeah? What about yours?" Taylor looked down again, picking at his cast.  
"Looks like he fell off an Abercrombie & Fitch bag."  
"So that's…good?" Taylor lifted one shoulder.  
"Maybe." Taylor looked back over to him slowly. "What about yours?" Stiles frowned.  
"He said he didn't want me." That wasn't what Taylor had asked. Stiles knew that. He couldn't help the words tumbling out.  
"What?" Taylor demanded. Stiles shrugged before having to look away. "If he didn't want you then why the hell would he claim you? That makes no sense."  
"Maybe he's insane."  
"He must be," Taylor said firmly. Stiles looked to him in shock, nearly smiling.  
"Thanks," he exhaled.  
"Hi," another voice called from the side. Stiles looked over to see a man with short dark hair and even darker eyes. He lingered in the gap of the curtain, eyes sliding back to Taylor after only a cursory glance to Stiles. "You're talking," he added softly. The mole above his top lip shifted down as he frowned. Stiles looked back to Taylor in time to see him cross his arms carefully.  
"I don't think he's talking to me Taylor," Stiles muttered, stifling a laugh. Taylor glared at him. Stiles tried not to laugh but he couldn't help it. "He's not." Taylor still remained silent so Stiles looked back to his mate. "I'm Stiles," he murmured.  
"Brennan," he returned, crossing the room and offering his hand. Stiles shook it.  
"Nice to meet you. Nice of you to come visit," he poked Taylor's leg, "right Taylor?" Taylor didn't verbally respond he simply shifted his leg over, glare intensifying.

Brennan turned back to Taylor, shoving one hand in his pocket.  
"The doctor said maybe they can release you today." Taylor didn't respond to that either.  
"So the silent treatment?" Stiles questioned no one in particular.  
"I don't blame him," Brennan said and Stiles guessed he was speaking to him and not Taylor.  
"It's not like you hurt him on purpose, right?"  
"Of course not, but he still got hurt," Brennan said softly, frowning. Taylor looked unhappy at this, the thumb peeking out from his cast twitching back and forth. The silence lingered for a few moments. "Do you want me to go Taylor?" Taylor's thumb paused and his frown deepened.  
"No," Stiles answered for him, not receiving a glare and figuring he'd made the right choice. He pushed out of the chair. "I'm going to hunt down some food. See you two later." He paused as he passed Brennan, debating quickly before leaning in. "I think he's more embarrassed he fell out of the tree," he whispered before exiting the curtain. Stiles was guessing again but there hadn't been any animosity in his voice when Taylor talked about Brennan. Adding that Brennan seemed pretty nice and Taylor was normally quiet…Stiles didn't think he was far off. He wandered into the empty hallway before a closing door had him pressing flat against the wall. He felt pretty ridiculous until he heard Derek's angry voice.  
"It's not going to work," his mate growled. Stiles rolled his eyes.  _Of course not because you are a bipolar werewolf._  
"Mr. Hale," Ross began, still pleasant, "I am aware that you do not care for yourself. But you will care for this boy who has never done you any wrong. You will do your utmost to make this work or when he leaves you do too." Stiles' breath caught in his chest. Somewhere in that sentence Ross had turned into The Godfather.  
"I don't have anywhere to go," Derek returned, voice quiet and tense.  
"Something for you to consider," Ross allowed.  
"He can hear us right now," Derek said then and Stiles couldn't help a small gasp.  
"I am aware," Ross murmured simply. "Mr. Stilinski if you would join us please." His voice was back to normal and it only made goose bumps pop up on Stiles' arms. Stiles rounded the corner and walked half the length of the hallway to them. "I want him to know that I expect you to be trying," Ross continued, turning back to Derek. "I want him to know any discretions are to be reported to me."

Derek's nostrils flared and his eyes shone brighter for a second as his fists clenched.  
"Noted," Derek growled. Stiles barely managed to stop from shuddering.  
"Stop scaring him," Ross said, lifting a hand and slapping the back of Derek's head. "Your wolf doesn't like it," he explained as Derek more or less fell out of his threatening posture, wide eyes falling on the man between them.  
"I am perfectly aware of my wolf," Derek snapped a painful moment later.  
"Yes well then you should stop trying to fight it to the death." Ross turned to Stiles, all smiles once again. "Mr. Stilinski, how do you feel about leaving the infirmary today?" Stiles forced himself not to look at Derek. He didn't need to be eviscerated by eyes as he tried to answer.  
"I guess normal clothes would be good," he mumbled, feeling his arm twitch and hating himself for it.  
"Marvelous. Take him shopping Derek." Both Stiles' eyebrows shot up at that and his mouth fell open slightly. Had Derek just been demoted to first name status? Stiles had to fight a chuckle. Derek was staring at Ross, evidently wondering the same thing. "Go on. You do so love to take your car. Take him to Walla Walla." Stiles blanched.  
"Walla Walla, Washington? We're in  _Washington_?"  
"No we're in Oregon," Ross responded, clapping his hands together.  
"We're close to Washington?" Stiles corrected shrilly.  
"It's a two hour drive," Derek snapped, "let's go."  
"It's a  _three_ hour drive if you speed," Ross said, catching Derek's arm. "Don't you put this boy's life in danger." There was an edge to the threat that even Stiles could read. Derek growled, actually growled, before shaking Ross' arm off and stalking away. Stiles said a silent prayer before following after him.

Derek had longer legs than him and he had no trouble using that advantage. Stiles was rushing, make that stumbling, to catch up and when someone stopped him to offer his shoes he huffed out an irritated breath. There must have been a very good camera system in the building. Stiles shoved his shoes on over the slipper socks that looked like they had actually come from a hospital and ran out the door. There really wasn't much point in rushing because the town settlement thing wasn't very big and Derek stuck out against the prim little houses in his black leather jacket. Still Stiles thought that pissing off a werewolf he was about to be trapped in a car with wasn't the best idea. Yeah he had Ross' protection but what good was that going to do him as soon as they left? A bubble of anxiety worked its way into his throat. They were leaving. Leaving wherever they even were. Going into society. Back to people. And cell phones. He patted his thigh on reflex, groaning when his hand was met with thin cotton and not denim conforming to the shape of his cell phone.  _Damn_. He'd lost his phone. Actually, it probably died in the stream. He'd forgotten all about it. That was okay. He would just need a payphone or anyone who had a tiny sliver of a heart who would let him borrow theirs. All he had to do was get away from Derek. The werewolf was still about ten feet ahead of him, walking away quickly. Didn't seem like that would be much of a problem. Maybe a long car ride was a good thing, Stiles needed plenty of time to plan. Getting in contact with his dad wasn't even half the battle. He was still hours away,  _a lot_  of hours away. He huffed out a sigh as he put on an extra burst of speed to try and catch up.

"This is being nice to me?" Damn he was already breathless.  
"Shut up."  
"That's being nice to me?" Stiles demanded. Derek stopped so suddenly Stiles ended up about three steps ahead of him when he stopped.  
"Shut the fuck up," Derek exhaled, glaring still, " _please_." He started walking and Stiles debated whether or not that was progress before catching up yet again.  
"Oh  _shit_ ," he exhaled when Derek climbed into a black Camaro with no warning whatsoever. He stared at the sleek lines, fighting the urge to reach out and touch. A pang for his patched up Jeep was the thing that got him moving again and by the time he got in Derek was glaring out the windshield. "Nice car," he offered, smiling.  
"Buckle up," Derek snapped in response, "wouldn't want you to go flying through the windshield now would we?"  
"Well that's morbid," Stiles returned, reaching for the seatbelt and flying into the dash, the strip of fabric streaking out uselessly in his grip, as Derek slammed on the gas and reversed onto the thin road they'd just been walking on. He was thrown back into the seat before he'd managed to buckle in, sending Derek a glare of his own. It was admittedly less impressive but at the moment Stiles didn't care. "That could have set off the airbag you know," he snipped, crossing his arms over his seatbelt.  
"I think it's going to take more than a prepubescent boy hitting it at six miles an hour."  
"Hey!" he scoffed before pausing to lower his voice. "Hey okay not okay. Not cool man. So not cool."  
"Okay not okay? What are you trying to get across there?" Derek glanced to him, a smirk that could have been devastating sitting on his mouth.  
"I go to high school, I have to limit my vocabulary," Stiles snapped, relieved when Derek looked back to the road. They were already in the woods and Stiles didn't really want to look at the speedometer. At the rate the trees were blurring by they were going dangerously fast and he would only get more nervous if he knew the number.  
"Don't remind me," Derek returned, groaning and lifting one hand off the steering wheel to cover his eyes. Stiles gritted his teeth.  
"I didn't exactly sign up for this."

If Stiles had a choice, he'd be in school right now. At least, he thinks he'd be in school. "What day is it?" Silence stretched so long Stiles wondered if Derek was even going to answer him.  
"Saturday," he finally said.  
"Saturday!" Stiles yelped, seatbelt catching him as he launched forward, arms coming uncrossed and slicing through the air. "I was asleep for two days?" he demanded when he'd landed half back on the seat.  
"Yes," Derek answered tightly. "And if you're going to do that," he waved one hand vaguely, "warn me next time."  
"Yeah okay do you even realize I've been missing since Tuesday and it's now Saturday and my father probably has half the state of California looking for me?"  
"Well then it's a good thing we're not in California," Derek said, smirking again.  
"Great he'll call the FBI," Stiles moaned, tossing his head into his hands.  
"They'll never find us." There was a confidence in Derek's voice that had a shudder running over Stiles. He didn't doubt the statement in the least.  
"Yeah but I mean okay we're going out in public right now. Okay is that even a good idea?" He clapped a hand over his mouth the second the words were out but it was too late.  
"You use the word okay way too much." Stiles rolled his eyes and dropped his hand.  
" _Okay_  well then you're clearly way too old." Derek snorted quietly, glancing to Stiles and away. "Oh god," Stiles exhaled, "we've broken laws haven't we? I mean you have,  _clearly_ , but now I have too haven't I?"  
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
"How old are you?" Derek's eyes swiveled to him for just a second.  
"I'm twenty three." Stiles tossed himself back in the seat, covering his face with both hands.  
"You're  _ancient_ ," he complained. "And illegal. Oh my god you're like the werewolf Daddy Warbucks and I'm Orphan Annie. I don't want to be Orphan Annie and you're not even rich oh my  _god_." He dragged his hands off his face slowly. "I am not scrubbing any floors. Or singing."  
"Are you supposed to be taking pills?" Derek asked bluntly. Stiles groaned again.  
"Yes I am and thanks for reminding me now I'm going to-" his neck gave a huge spasm just then and he paused to breathe, "be doing that all day."

He covered his face again and slumped, letting his leg jerk up and down. "I hate everything," he groaned, letting the sentence drag out until he ran out of air and had to inhale. The seatbelt was cutting into his neck so eventually he sat back up, huffing out another sigh. "Why did you have to say that?" he moaned.  
"What is wrong with you?" Derek demanded hands tight on the steering wheel.  
"You mean asides from being kidnapped and held hostage by a douche bag who obviously hates me?" Derek didn't react to the words.  
"Obviously."  
"I'll be fine," Stiles snapped, not wanting to go through the laundry list of things shrinks thought were wrong with him.  
"You're normally on medication but you'll be fine," Derek repeated dryly.  
"It's not like you care is it?" Stiles demanded, tensing his leg in an effort to get it to go still. Silence fell again. "That's what I thought," he couldn't help the words, crossing his arms again as he looked out the window.

They were maybe fifteen minutes into the ride when Stiles remembered he was supposed to be planning and not arguing with a bipolar werewolf. "Where are we anyways?" he demanded. That could be useful information. In fact that was information he needed. Another long silence. Stiles started to wonder what Derek had against answering his questions.  
"Near Umatilla National Forest." Stiles was vaguely sure he'd heard the name before, maybe something about the Blue Mountains too.  
"A whole group of werewolves just chilling out in a national forest. Of course."  
"It's over a million acres," Derek added. Stiles was surprised that he was actually offering information and had to snap his jaw closed. "For all you know we might not be the only ones." He offered another smirk and Stiles tried not to shiver. Not offering information then. Terrorizing. Stiles huffed out a breath.  _Trying_ to terrorize. He was not going to be afraid. He wasn't.  
"What about campers? Park rangers? I don't know bears?"  
"The settlement has been here almost two hundred years." Apparently Derek thought that was explanation enough.  
"The fence isn't a dead giveaway that something is going on?" Stiles continued incredulously.  
"You're in a national forest, see a fence, and immediately think secret organization of werewolves?"  
"Well now I will."

Either Derek smiled for a half second or Stiles was hallucinating. Given Derek's normal expression, either was possible. "Okay so if Walla Walla is so far away why are we going there?"  
"We're not allowed to go shopping within fifty miles."  
"Why?" To Stiles it was a natural progression of conversation, Derek stared at him as if he was mentally challenged.  
"Werewolves," he replied, looking back to the road and shaking his head.  
"Okay fine so why did Ross have you take me shopping?" Derek opened his mouth and apparently changed his mind, teeth snapping together just before a growl slid out.  
"Obviously he is trying to annoy me to death," he gritted eventually.  
"Shouldn't you be less susceptible to death by annoyance?" Derek glared at him silence and Stiles felt the need to elaborate. "You know, since you're a werewolf?" Derek's eyes closed and he growled again, the car around them accelerating. Stiles felt his heart give an extra kick as it picked up and he swallowed roughly. "Shouldn't you be watching the road?" he squeaked, hands gripping the leather seat tightly. The car accelerated again, the engine giving a slight whine in protest and Derek turned to him slowly, eyes finally opening.  
"The fact has not escaped me," he said slowly, smirking at Stiles' obvious discomfort.  
"Okay I get it you're badass just watch the fucking road please!" Surprise registered on Derek's face and he turned back to the road, shooting a quick glance at Stiles before frowning again. Stiles' hands were shaking and he pulled his knees up before wrapping his arms around them and burying his face. He was not going to have a panic attack. He was not going to have a panic attack. He didn't even have his inhaler; a panic attack was not an option.  
"Are you okay?" Derek asked, voice strained. Stiles lifted his head slightly to let it fall back to his knees and tried to breathe.  
"Just shut up please," Stiles exhaled, breathless. Derek did and he worked on breathing. In and out. Everything was fine. His lungs were inflating. They were deflating. Just as they should. His heart was still beating. He was fine. He was fine.  _Fine, fine, fine_  became his mantra and eventually he'd managed to calm himself down.

He still didn't move for the longest time.  
"I'm sorry," Derek said his voice so urgent Stiles finally pulled up and looked to him. "Really." Stiles found himself nodding.  
"It's fine. I just have panic attacks sometimes."  
"I won't do it again." Stiles nodded again, breathing a bit easier at the promise.  
"How much longer?" he asked warily.  
"Almost two and a half hours." Stiles moved his legs back to the floor slowly, shifting his arms slightly to get the blood flowing again. He leaned his head against the window, ignoring it when a small sound slipped from Derek, almost a whine. He wasn't going to get all worked up again. He was just going to sit in the car until they got there. Stiles should probably have seen it coming but it wasn't long before he cracked.  
"Oh my god," he exhaled, "a gas station. Pull in, pull in."  
"What? No."  
"But I need to pee," Stiles whined, dragging out the final word.  
"Why didn't you go before we left?"  
"Like I had the chance," Stiles rolled his eyes and reached towards the steering wheel, flinching when Derek growled at him. His father certainly never reacted that way. He shook it off as Derek pulled in, rolling to a stop just in front of the pathetic excuse for a building.  
"I'll be listening," Derek said before he cut the engine. Stiles froze, hand on the door handle.  
"Wait like…while I'm in the bathroom?" Derek grimaced.  
"No! What is wrong with you?" Stiles opened his mouth and Derek growled again. "Hypothetical. I meant I'll be listening if you try to get help. Jesus Christ just hurry up." Stiles mock saluted before throwing open the door and rushing out.

He was okay. Mostly. He was going to be fine. Stiles wasn't sure how he just was. At least there was an end date in sight. It wasn't like this was forever. And clearly Derek could hardly stand him so it wasn't like there was even any danger of it being forever. By the time three months were up he would have a kick ass story to tell his dad, he'd even have time to work all the holes out of it so it was air tight. So for these three months he just had to be sure Derek didn't kill him. And that he didn't die of boredom. A slight frown claimed his face as his hand fell on the door handle. No school. No internet. Not even any Scott. Adapting would be…a challenge. He wondered if his best friend was even worried about him. Possible. Stiles just didn't believe it. He shook the thoughts off. The gas station attendant didn't even bother looking up from her magazine.  
"Excuse me, do you have a bathroom?" She cracked her gum before pointing to the left towards a dark doorway. "Thanks," Stiles said brightly. Zero response. He paused on the way, staring longingly at the bags of potato chips. His stomach rumbled painfully. When was the last time he'd eaten? He didn't even know. God he was hungry. He reminded himself he didn't have his wallet before forcing himself to move. In the bathroom he debated how Derek would respond if he asked for food. He was supposed to take care of him right? That included food. That had to include food, Stiles was a teenage boy after all. His stomach grumbled again and Stiles winced as he went to the sink. "Shut up stomach," he mumbled. He wiped his hands on his pants before pulling open the door, jumping when he saw Derek inches from the doorway. "Jesus do you have to…loom like that?" Instead of responding Derek looked around him, into the bathroom. "What?" Stiles snapped, "I was gonna leave an SOS on the floor with toilet paper?" He squeezed past Derek, heading for the small section of food. "Good now you're in here you can buy me lunch." He didn't bother raising his voice, Derek would hear. He grabbed at random, whatever looked good or was in an exceedingly bright package. Derek's face was cast in a grimace by the time he finished, arms crossed as he waited by the register.  
"That's all going in you?" he demanded.  
"Yes. Ooh drinks," Stiles added, dropping all the items on the counter before moving for the cooler in the back. He grabbed four Mountain Dews and a bag of Cheetos. "There's the ride back too," Stiles explained, impressed that Derek was grimacing even more than before.

When Derek was angry he had three expressions. There was his default, a slight frown, code name Tapioca. There was when he was pissed, when the food total had come to $56.11, code name Flan. Then there was when he was utterly furious, when Stiles got Cheeto crumbs on the floor of his car, code name Baked Alaska. Stiles had to promise to vacuum it four times before Derek stopped growling. Stiles figured he'd better start cataloguing these things so he knew when to toe the line. Derek was still in his default frown when they arrived in Walla Walla. His eyebrows went up when Stiles headed for a thrift store rather than the Old Navy but the frown remained. As Stiles started picking out clothes he shifted to Flan so Stiles ignored him and went about shopping as if he was on his own. He was in the fitting room trying on jeans when he suddenly remembered his tiny conch shell. His hand went to the left pocket of the thrift store jeans, already mostly knowing it was empty. It wasn't sitting on his dresser either. One hand clapped over his face as he exhaled harshly. He'd had a chemistry quiz on Tuesday and he'd wanted it for good luck. Now he'd lost it. Stiles knew it wasn't his fault, not really, but he still couldn't help the thick sledge of dread that built up in his stomach. He stripped the jeans back off and put on the thin cotton pants mechanically. It was stupid to react like this. His mother was already gone. It wasn't possible to lose her again. But he should have been more careful with it. He should have- He forced his mind to a halt. He couldn't get upset now. He needed to stop getting upset. If only it were that easy. Suddenly Stiles wanted to hear his father's voice more than anything in the world. The need curled tight in his stomach, mixing and melding with the dread until it was one immobile mess that he couldn't seem to breathe around. He grabbed all the clothes, blinking rapidly and struggling with the lock on the door. Derek was just outside the door, face getting dangerously close to Baked Alaska. Stiles struggled to swallow.  
"Let's go," he mumbled. Derek caught his elbow and hauled him back.  
"What's wrong?" Stiles shook his head.  
"Get off me."  
"Tell me what's wrong," Derek gritted in response, hand tightening as his face officially went to Baked Alaska.  
"I swear to God I'll scream," Stiles warned. Derek's hand finally fell away and Stiles shoved the bundle of clothes at him before bolting for the door.

He wasn't running. Not really. He just needed  _out_. He was at least twelve hours from home and he had no money or a way to contact anyone. There was no way he was escaping Derek. Plus what if Ross was telling the truth? What if he actually did get sick? He saw the payphone and he didn't think, he just went for it. "Collect call," he managed as soon as the line connected. He was patched through a ridiculous amount of times but finally the line was ringing.  
"Sheriff Stilinski," his father snapped, clearly in the middle of something. Stiles sagged against the wall next to the phone, breath seeping out slowly.  
"Hey Dad." Stiles knew he had to keep this short. His dad was probably ordering a trace right now. He was fairly sure the operator had already told him Walla Walla but still.  
"Stiles!" his dad yelled. Stiles didn't even bother pulling the phone away, simply wincing. "Goddamn it Son! Where the hell are you?" Tears burned suddenly.  
"I'm sorry Dad. I'm sorry. I can't come home yet," he cut off on a sob, "I can't and I'm sorry." He lifted his free hand and pressed his thumb to his left eye, his index and middle fingers to his right. "I'm okay…I guess. So don't worry about me okay?"  
"Son," his father's voice dropped, suddenly urgent, "what's happened? Where are you?" Stiles choked on another sob. Out of time. He knew he was out of time.  
"I'm leaving now. Don't bother coming here Dad." He inhaled deeply and moved his hand to his chest, clutching at the fabric there. "I love you Dad. Don't forget that okay?"  
"Stiles."  
"Don't forget." He couldn't wait for a response. He hung up the phone, dragging in a breath as he did. He swiped at his eyes frantically. He was on the street and Derek was sure to be back any minute. Not to mention they had to get out of Walla Walla. Derek would probably be furious. Stiles just started crying harder at the thought. He really needed to pull himself together. He needed to go find Derek and they needed to go. The only trouble was that Stiles couldn't even see past all the tears blurring his vision. His breaths were caught between gasps and painful hiccups and the pain rioting in his entire torso was just too much.

A hand was pulling his wrist suddenly and all Stiles could make out was a large black blur. Derek. Stiles didn't even react, he just kept crying and let himself be pulled along. He didn't register the fact that they were no longer moving until he was already curled in Derek's lap, a hand moving up and down his spine. He stumbled over a gasp and he tried to shift, going still immediately when Derek growled softly. He peeked up carefully to see Derek's eyes a blazing blue once again. His wolf? Stiles relaxed back into his hold, sighing shakily. Derek's wolf liked him at least. He had to. Stiles buried his face in Derek's neck and clutched at his jacket. Time lulled and slowed and for a little while it seemed like the world outside Derek's car didn't really exist. Just then, Stiles liked that thought.  
"Are you alright?" Derek asked, long after Stiles had finally quieted. Stiles scrambled off his lap, probably kicking him a few times. Derek simply grunted and let him go. Stiles huddled back in his seat and hugged himself. Wolf Derek was alright. Human Derek wasn't.  
"We should go," he said, scrubbing at his face, "I wouldn't be surprised if my dad hasn't already called the police up here." Stiles was proud of himself when his voice barely shook over the mention of his father. Derek didn't move immediately and Stiles looked to him slowly. Of course Derek wasn't looking at him, staring out the windshield instead.  
"I'm sorry." It wasn't exactly clear what Derek was apologizing for and he didn't explain, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking spot instead.

He was too emotionally spent to settle into sleep on the road back. Stiles thought that even with everything this was the worst part of it all. His own body betraying him without good reason. There were still some snacks on the console between them, a Mountain Dew and a half, but Stiles felt sort of queasy just thinking about them. If he threw up in the car Derek would probably make him ride in the trunk. The thought nearly made him smile. Derek didn't talk and Stiles didn't either. The silence felt heavy and weird but then again Stiles had a complete mental breakdown. He supposed if it didn't feel weird something would be seriously wrong. After an hour and a half he flicked the radio on. Derek's lips thinned but he didn't say anything. Stiles finally settled on classic rock, turned it down enough to be background noise, and leaned into the seat again.  
"Thank god you don't like country," Derek said eventually.  
"You're talking to me," Stiles noted, "not growling. I must have really freaked you out."  
"I'm not good with people," Derek admitted after one of his trademark silences.  
"Yeah well," Stiles snuck a glance at him before looking back out the window, "I'm not normally like that." Stiles  _wasn't_ normally like that. When he was upset he covered it up. He cracked a joke or just didn't talk at all. He didn't cry, he didn't break down, he didn't lose it. They lapsed into silence again and Stiles let his fingers drum on the arm rest to the beat of the music. It was finally enough to distract him.


	3. You Don't Know How I Feel

He was disoriented when he woke up. It was dark and for the life of him Stiles couldn't remember falling asleep. At some point he must have though because now he was in a bed. He took a moment to desperately hope that a) everything was a dream or b) he'd at least woken up enough to stumble into bed and couldn't remember it. There was a sinking feeling that neither was true. He was in a small room with white walls, a white dresser in the far corner. There was a huge window to his right, a closed door opposite it on his left. He'd managed to twist the sheet around both legs and disentangled himself before getting out of bed. His sneakers were off, on the floor at the foot of the bed, but everything else was just as he'd left it. That drew a sigh of relief from Stiles' lips. Small miracles. He opened the door slowly, peeking out into the darkened hallway. He was guessing it was nighttime, beyond that he had no idea. There was a door to his left before the hall ended and Stiles headed for it, hoping for a bathroom. It was a bathroom, complete with a modern shower and a peach sink. Stiles froze in the doorway, doing a double take. There was still wallpaper in torn streaks on the walls, as if someone had tried to take it down by hand, and what was left was peach to match the sink, white lines crisscrossing it in a plaid pattern. He was surprised again looking to the floor and seeing dark blue tiles. He shook his head as he padded across them. This house, it had to be Derek's, was weird. He noticed drips of white paint on the side of the sink as he flushed the toilet, white droplets on the corner of it too. So Derek had painted his room white? Stiles shook his head again. The guy was weird and that was pretty much all Stiles knew about him. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised by this house.

His stomach rumbled painfully and he turned off the faucet before wiping his hands on his thighs and heading back down the hall. There was a thin staircase just past the bedroom and Stiles took a deep breath before descending. The first floor was unimpressive. The front door was at the base of the stairs, curtain covered windows to the right extending into the 'living room' which only contained a sofa. One sofa. No coffee table. No TV. Not even a lamp. Luckily Stiles had hit the switch by the door on the way past and could see into the kitchen. As expected, it was tiny. Cabinets were cut in half by a sink and window in the middle of the back wall. A fridge was to his left, unexpectedly it was giant. An ancient dinosaur of an appliance. To his right the wall was cut into to make room for the staircase. Beneath it was a door. Stiles guessed it led to a garage, which he was certainly not interested in right now. He turned around and sank down on the couch before drumming his fingers on his thigh. Evidently Derek wasn't here. Stiles wondered where he was as he tried to rectify this house with the building he'd first been in. This house was old and obviously neglected. The building he'd been in was clean and modern, complete with a camera system. Or maybe it didn't have one…maybe someone had simply followed him to give him his shoes. That was possible too. They were werewolves he reminded himself. Maybe they could track his scent. That was kind of creepy. It also made escape even more impossible. Was he even still thinking about escape? No. Surely not. He was miles and miles away from civilization. And he had managed to talk to his dad so he should know Stiles was okay. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. His stomach grumbled again and for a moment it was enough to calm his mind down to one stream of thought. Derek wasn't here. He needed food. Stiles pushed off the couch and headed back into the kitchen.

The fridge held a gallon of milk that was almost empty and what was left of his Mountain Dews. Stiles groaned before trying the freezer which was completely empty. Next were the cabinets. A few dishes, as in hardly any, and in the cabinets closest to the door were what was left of his stash and the bag of his clothes from Goodwill. Stiles groaned again. He wanted food. Real actual food. He wanted his dad's special chili that was hot enough to burn your teeth out of your mouth. As soon as he got home he was getting his dad to make it for him, whatever it took. As it was he groaned again and let his head smack into the cabinet door. Okay. He could figure this out. What the hell did Derek eat? Air? He nearly groaned again. It didn't matter what Derek ate. He could eat raw squirrel for all Stiles knew. Even the disgust that thought brought wasn't enough to quell his sudden hunger. Okay he could figure this out. He was in a settlement full of werewolves. Someone had to be willing to feed him. Maybe they had campfire cookouts or something. Didn't people do that out in the woods? He rolled his eyes quickly before grabbing the bag from Goodwill. He could at least put on some regular clothes first. Stripping out of the thin pants and t-shirt was a relief and Stiles replaced them with jeans, a t-shirt with a target on it, and a green plaid shirt. Of course it occurred to him then that he only had one pair of boxers, which he didn't recognize. He groaned. Not another shopping trip.  
"Okay focus," he muttered to himself. He couldn't see a hamper so he balled the clothes he'd taken off up and left them at the foot of the bed. The bag with the rest of his clothes went on the bed and he pulled on his shoes before heading back downstairs.

There weren't any streetlights. Stiles supposed they could see in the dark too. He snorted quickly. They probably could. There was enough light coming from houses around him to see so Stiles started making his way back to the center of the settlement. Thunder rumbled overhead and Stiles walked a bit faster, half wondering where he was going. There seemed to be a lot more houses now that he was walking through the settlement on foot. Rain came out of nowhere and Stiles stopped wondering, he just ran. He only made it a few more feet before his eyes widened and he stopped suddenly in the pouring rain, staring at the diner. It was an actual diner. In a werewolf settlement. Thunder rumbled again and Stiles ran towards it. Two men inside, a slim brunette on a stool and a hulk of a blonde behind the counter, turned at his approach. Stiles resisted the urge to shake off and squeaked across the floor. "Okay," he breathed, "so I don't have money but I am willing to wash dishes for food." The huge blonde laughed loudly, flinging his rag over his shoulder.  
"You're Hale's boy aren't you?" Stiles flushed at the identifier before nodding.  
"Yeah I guess."  
"Aiden," the blonde said, pointing to the other man, "I'm Shane. You don't need any money." Stiles grinned broadly.  
"I don't? Fantastic." He swung onto a stool, which started spinning underneath his weight. "What do you have?" he questioned as he spun around. He made it a circuit and a half before grabbing the counter to stop. He waved at Aiden who was watching him with a thin smile. "Hi, I'm Stiles."

Shane set a menu down in front of Stiles which he ignored. "Do you have anything ready now?" he questioned, trying not to sound too eager.  
"Hale feeding you?" Aiden questioned.  
"I couldn't find any food in the house," Stiles explained with half a shrug. His knee started jerking as he looked back and forth between the men. "I'm really glad this diner is here though. God it smells really good in here too." Shane laughed again.  
"Maybe I should have actually tried to claim you," he said, shaking his head. Stiles' knee went still as his jaw dropped.  
"What?"  
"In the woods," Shane explained easily, "I thought you might have been hurt so I stopped to check on you. But then Hale showed up and  _man_ was he pissed. I figured it was best to get gone."  
"That was you?" Stiles demanded. Shane laughed again and Stiles smiled despite the strange conversation.  
"That was me. I'm gonna grab you some chili, be right back."  
"I'm gonna head out Shane," Aiden said, eyes flashing ocher. His lips were pressed thin and he slid from the stool and rushed out the door before Shane had responded.  
"Is he okay?" Stiles asked, a shiver running over his skin.  
"He'll be fine," Shane answered, smiling quickly as he turned for the kitchen door. "Be right back Stiles." Stiles heard Shane singing after a moment and smiled again before shaking his head. He couldn't help the thought. What if Shane had claimed him?

He was…happy. And nice to Stiles. Most importantly he was about to feed him. Stiles' stomach rumbled and he patted it quickly. The door swung open and Shane appeared again, grey fabric hanging off one shoulder, a tiny plate and cup cradled in one of his huge hands.  
"Chili," Stiles exhaled, grinning as he watched the steam curl above the cup. Shane set it in front of him and pulled a spoon from behind the counter before setting it on the edge of the plate. He turned to the left and walked the length of the counter before rounding it.  
"Here," he set the fabric over Stiles' shoulders. Stiles barely glanced at it before turning to his chili and picking up his spoon. He took a minute just to inhale; it smelled  _perfect_ , before finally digging in.  
"Oh my  _god_ ," he mumbled, mouth full. He fanned his free hand in front of his mouth, chewing even though it was too hot. "Ohnn, mm, so good. Oh my god. Can I live in the back," he shoved another spoonful in, "and eat the leftovers, sweet chili, please." Shane laughed.  
"Come by any time you want. If I'm not out front I'm in the back room reading comics or sleeping."  
"Are you  _serious_ ," Stiles demanded, chili dribbling down his chin. He swiped at it, staring at Shane and trying to continue eating, nearly missing his mouth. Shane set some napkins down next to him.  
"Yeah," he smiled again, "What do you want to actually eat? Burger? Fries? Spaghetti?"  
"More food?" His mouth was full again. Stiles really needed to coordinate his hand and mouth better.  
"You're a doused puppy," Shane offered, "I'd probably take a bullet for you right now." Stiles smiled again, barely remembering to close his mouth.  
"I'll eat anything," he said before eating another bite.  
"I can see that," Shane teased. "I'll get you more chili and then make something for you." He turned for the back again and Stiles looked down to see his cup of chili nearly empty.  
"I love you," he called, scraping around the edge of the cup.

Between his second and his third cups of chili Stiles discovered it was a huge sweatshirt that Shane had put over him. Stiles pulled it tight and zipped the front, shoving the sleeves out of the way. He was wiping his face and cleaning up the counter when Shane set a burger and fries down in front of him.  
"Figured chili and spaghetti were pretty similar," Shane offered with a shrug. "You thirsty?" he asked, smiling again. Stiles had already shoved three fries in his mouth so he nodded enthusiastically.  
"Anything," he mumbled, grabbing another fry. Stiles was  _still_  hungry and he fantasized yet again about living in the back of the diner as he picked up the burger. He genuinely liked Shane and he'd known the guy for a grand total of twenty minutes. Shane rounded the counter again before setting a glass of dark soda down next to his plate. He sat, leaving a stool between them. Shane's torso was so massive another person couldn't possibly have fit between them. "So how come everybody calls Derek Hale?" Stiles questioned while his mouth was empty.  
"He's kinda the black sheep here," Shane said with a quick shrug. "He's never tried to make friends so we don't really know too much about him."  
"Great so he's like a werewolf hermit," Stiles sighed.  
"Well you're welcome here Stiles."  
"Seriously? Because I might just move in for three months." Shane laughed and Stiles chuckled too. "So wait why three months anyways?" he asked when he remembered Ross mentioning it.  
"It's in time for the next mating run. If Derek doesn't make his claim on you permanent before then you two can separate."  
"I guess that's something," Stiles sighed.

"Maybe things will work themselves out," Shane suggested. Stiles spiked an eyebrow before shooting him a sidelong glance.  
"Are you secretly a unicorn?" Shane burst out laughing and Stiles could feel the vibration in the counter.  
"Why would you say that?"  
"Because you're legit the nicest person I've ever met."  
"Thanks," Shane murmured. Stiles had to chuckle again.  
"You would thank me just for telling the truth."  
"Somebody pays you a compliment you say thank you, that's what my mom always said."  
"She sounds really smart." Shane smiled before nodding.  
"Half my comics were hers." Stiles let his burger drop back to the plate and grabbed a napkin, wiping his hands quickly. He turned towards Shane.  
"Comics. I totally meant to ask about those. But…food. You can really cook, just by the way and I am beginning to think you should have claimed me."  
"Yeah I've got tons of comics. You can come back tomorrow if you want." Stiles frowned at that.  
"Tomorrow?" Shane tilted his head back and Stiles' eyes moved through the door to see Derek stalking towards it. Stiles winced quickly. "Crap he's already to Flan."  
"Flan?"  
"I'll have to explain later," Stiles sighed. He hopped off his stool, grabbing one more fry. Derek was to Baked Alaska by the time he yanked open the door and Stiles was starting to wonder if he had a glare past that as he jerked to a stop, shoes squelching.  
"What are you doing?" he growled, eyes flashing blue as his nostrils flared. Stiles was fully prepared to launch into his story about needing food and being a growing teenage boy when he realized Derek wasn't even looking at him.

The stool creaked as Shane stood.  
"No harm no foul Hale. He was cold." Derek growled. "Stiles," Shane said calmly, "my jacket please." Stiles flew into motion, yanking the zipper down and tugging it from his shoulders. "Just drop it to the floor," Shane instructed. Shivering again, more out of fear than from the temperature, Stiles let the fabric fall from his hands. Derek's eyes were glowing blue then and he stripped off his jacket before crossing to Stiles and putting it over his shoulders.  
"Sorry?" Stiles whispered. Derek's hands clutched at his shoulders and his eyes flicked closed. His mouth pressed closed tightly and Stiles only noticed he wasn't breathing because of how perfectly  _still_ he was. After several moments Derek's eyes opened, the hazel color returned to normal.  
"Let's go," he said very quietly. He took Stiles' hand and Stiles barely stopped himself from gasping at that. He closed his eyes quickly. It was just some wolf thing. Shane knew about it so it had to be. It was just instinctual, territorial bullshit. He followed along behind Derek, free hand holding onto the edges of the leather to keep it on him. If he dipped his nose into the collar a few times on the walk back he wouldn't admit it later. They were both drenched by the time they got back to Derek's house so Stiles was more than a little surprised when Derek didn't release his hand and in fact pulled him up the stairs without even turning a light on. He turned into the bedroom before closing the door behind them and flicking on the light. "Take off your clothes," he said before yanking his shirt off and tossing it to the floor.  
"What?" Stiles squeaked, staring at him.  
"I said take off your clothes," Derek snapped, "I can't have you running around stinking of another wolf."  
"I'll t-take a shower," Stiles muttered, throat dry. Derek rolled his eyes.  
"It doesn't work that way. Do you need help?" he added impatiently. Derek kicked off his shoes and then his hands were on the snap of his jeans. Stiles flushed before turning away, nearly falling over his pile of clothes from earlier.  
"Oh my god are we having sex?" he demanded, breath catching in his chest.

"Of course not," Derek actually sounded offended at the idea. "I'll keep my boxers on just for you cupcake."  
"So we're just like…cuddling?" There was a brief pause.  
"Something like that I guess. I just need to get my scent into your skin." Stiles swallowed and nodded before moving his hands to the edges of Derek's jacket. He jumped when Derek's hands appeared to help him. "I'll be right back," he said, taking his jacket and leaving. Stiles dropped onto the bed and lifted his feet to pull off his shoes. He'd only managed one sock by the time Derek returned, without his jacket. "The slower you go the longer this takes," Derek said, one hand falling to a hip. Stiles had to force his eyes back off the ripples of muscle and thin trail of hair. God this was so awkward. His cheeks flushed and he yanked off his other sock, unsatisfied when throwing it only resulted in a tiny splat of sound.  
"Why'd you call me cupcake?" he demanded, distracting himself from the fact that he was stripping out of his clothes.  
"Flan, cupcake," Derek muttered, scratching the back of his head. Stiles had to look away again, chest tightening.  
"You were listening?" The wet plaid was suddenly a lot heavier.  
"I heard. I wasn't listening." It wasn't like Derek had a reason to be offended.  _He_ was the one who hadn't wanted Stiles. It wasn't Stiles' fault that Shane was the Allied Forces and Derek was the Axis of Evil. Actually Shane was more like a mix of the Hulk and Captain America. He was smiling until Derek snapped his fingers. "Seriously do you need help?" It sounded more like  _seriously are you mentally challenged_  but Stiles ignored that, pulling at the wet sleeves and finally managing to get them off his hands. He shoved the plaid shirt to the floor. "Come on stand up," Derek said, stepping closer.

Stiles swallowed again but managed the movement, yelping when Derek grasped the hem of his shirt and yanked up. He caught Stiles' chin in the collar and Stiles barely moved his arms up in time to stop the fabric from ripping.  
"Maybe some warning," Stiles huffed, rubbing at his chin to soothe the sudden burn. Derek didn't respond, opening his jeans instead. Stiles jerked backwards, falling into the bed before wriggling away.  
"Okay no. I can handle that." Derek crossed his arms and arched a dark brow. "You don't have to be so rude," Stiles informed him, slowly pushing his jeans off his hips. The drag of the soaked fabric was torturous. "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar."  
"I have no desire to catch flies," Derek informed him dryly, rolling his hand in a 'continue' motion.  
"Yeah well you're stuck with me so you might as well stop being a douche." He turned away, letting his feet fall to the floor and looking out the window. He could see the outline of Derek's silhouette there so he looked to the bottom of the window, only then noticing insulation peeking out. He wondered if Derek had put the window in himself as he lifted his hips from the edge of the mattress and finally shoved his jeans down to his knees. The bed dipped behind him as Derek climbed in and Stiles focused on getting his pants totally off before slowly looking over his shoulder.  
"Come here," Derek sighed. It took an incredibly long time for Stiles to move. This was the first time Derek had really seen him without clothes. Stiles wasn't stupid, he knew he was nothing to look at. Too skinny. Too pale. Too many moles. The list went on. He tried not to notice the inherent differences in their bodies but it was impossible. Derek was broad and muscled and imposing and Stiles just looked like a cooked lasagna noodle next to him. He held his sigh in, hand picking at the sheet. Derek's hand caught his, stopping his progress. "It'll only slow it down." He couldn't stop an unhappy sound that slid out but nodded anyways.  
"Yeah okay."

Once Stiles was actually laying next to Derek he nearly choked on the sigh of relief he'd been ready for. It wasn't any easier being next to him than it was moving closer to him. Derek's hand slid down his forearm slowly, rough palm drawing up gooseflesh in its wake. Stiles tried not to shudder and failed.  
"Just try to stay calm," Derek breathed, leaning in even closer.  
"Right I'll try not to run into the middle of town in nothing but boxers and screaming my lungs out."  
"I didn't mean it like that," Derek informed him simply. His other hand reached out, pulling Stiles onto his side before running onto his back. Stiles arched closer without really meaning too, struggling for air when Derek's calf slid between his. Derek was still moving, pulling Stiles even closer before turning onto his side and then rearranging Stiles again. His hands continued even after that was done, skimming over every inch of skin available. He nudged at Stiles' chin and Stiles tilted his head back, shivering when Derek's breath ghosted over his skin.  _Finally_ Derek stilled. Stiles wasn't released as he was expecting. Instead Derek held him close just like that, bodies intertwined, the most tender part of Stiles' body right under Derek's jaw. Derek was incredibly warm and bored with waiting Stiles was just beginning to settle into sleep when Derek moved. He released Stiles and sat up before reaching for his jeans. "We shouldn't have to do it again until next week."  
"Again?" Stiles demanded, drawing the sheet over himself in an effort to try and trap some heat.  
"Do you want me to fuck you instead?" Derek questioned bluntly before pulling his shirt on. Stiles didn't want to stumble over his response so he said nothing. "That's what I thought," Derek muttered. "I got groceries. Your clothes are in the top drawer. I'll be on the couch." With that he picked up his shoes and left, closing the door behind him carefully. Stiles stared after him for an embarrassingly long time.

Eventually he got up to get dressed because it was cold in the room and there wasn't a blanket. Stiles was mostly sure that Derek didn't own one since he probably didn't need one. And there had been enough awkward interaction between them for the night. Along with his clothes there were two new packages of boxers, both small and medium. Stiles blushed before tearing into one of the packages and trading his damp boxers for new ones. So Derek had gone shopping for him. That was…nice. Maybe. Fully dressed Stiles got back in the bed and pulled a pillow into his arms, hugging it and sighing. He thought he should pick his clothes up and hang them up so they dried properly but at that point he was too tired. He stretched half out of the bed to flick the switch, flinging himself back in with a sigh of relief. He thought back to Shane and his promise of free food and comics, a smile fitting to his lips as he closed his eyes.

It was still dark when he woke.  
"Laura!" Was that Derek? "Laur-" There was a thump from downstairs before some water ran. After a few moments it turned off and Stiles breathed again. His stomach was tight and he had to shake out his hands to get them to relax. Apparently Derek had a nightmare? Stiles supposed he shouldn't be surprised that werewolves could have them too. He rolled his eyes at himself before frowning again. But who was Laura? And why did Derek wake up screaming her name? His breathing cut off as he heard footsteps on the stairs and Stiles closed his eyes, turning away. The door swung open with only the slightest sound. No light leaked in and Stiles had to remind himself that Derek didn't need it. The door closed and footsteps went back down the stairs, quieter than before. Stiles chewed on his lip as he tried to think. Who was Laura?


	4. You Don't Know what is Real

A knock on the door woke him. Stiles slapped hands over his ears before letting out a whiney,  
"What?"  
"You know it's nearly 10 AM right?"  
" _Nearly_ 10?" Stiles demanded.  
"Are you getting up or not?" Stiles thought about retorting that something had woken him up in the middle of the night but changed his mind at the last second. "Do you want breakfast?" Derek questioned next. Stiles' stomach, ever ready for food, gave a growl.  
"Yeah," he admitted.  
"Then get out of bed and make some." Stiles rolled his eyes. He should have seen that coming.  
"Yeah thanks." One good thing about going to bed dressed, all Stiles had to do was roll out. Derek's eyebrows jerked up when he pulled the door open and tried to step out, blocked by Derek's body. "You mind?" Stiles questioned, rubbing at his chin and wondering how bad his morning breath was. Judging by Derek's expression, it was pretty bad. Derek half gestured to the bathroom before turning and stomping down the stairs. Stiles rolled his eyes quickly. He hadn't even done anything.

There was a certain vindication in using Derek's toothbrush and Stiles was smiling as he walked into the kitchen, until he saw Derek bite into a strip of bacon raw. He retched and covered his mouth with both hands. "Oh my  _god_ what are you  _doing_?" Derek spared him a glance before rolling it along his fingertips and tossing it into his mouth. Stiles retched again, closing his eyes. Raw squirrel wasn't far off. Who knew. "That is so wrong," he exhaled, " _so wrong_."  
"I always burn it," Derek said, as if the answer was simple.  
"So you just don't  _cook_ it?" Stiles turned for the fridge almost desperately. He wasn't sure which sin was worse. Burnt bacon or raw bacon.  
"You're the only one complaining."  
"I'm the only one who  _knows_ ," Stiles corrected, yanking open the fridge door, "there is a difference." He grabbed the gallon of milk and turned cautiously. "A huge difference," he emphasized. Derek rolled his eyes. "Did you get Pop-Tarts?" he questioned, a smile pulling at his lips just at the thought.  
"Did I get Pop-whats?" Derek demanded, brow furrowing. Stiles' face fell.  
"You are so ancient," he complained again. "You know I can't eat raw bacon right? I could die."  
"Can't you cook?" Stiles debated if toaster skills counted. Probably not.  
"Do you even own a skillet?" he questioned instead.  
"There's one in the garage…I think."  
"How do you live? Oh my god you don't even have a microwave." He took a step back and let his head fall against the fridge. "What do you eat? Seriously?"  
"I don't generally stay in." Stiles unscrewed the cap of the milk before taking a swig. Derek winced and crossed his arms over his chest.  
"I hate to say this," Stiles muttered, running the back of his hand over his mouth, "but we need to go shopping."

Shockingly, Derek didn't argue. At all. Instead he pulled a cell phone from his back pocket and dialed, still looking at Stiles.  
"Hey Sarah," he said pleasantly, lips half smiling, "can you cover my class for today?" Stiles stared at him as he took another swig of milk, tongue sweeping out to catch a rivulet that had escaped. Derek grimaced and turned away. "No, no," he said, "I'm fine. Just had some…things come up." He paused, evidently listening. "Thursday? Sure." Another pause. Derek laughed and Stiles nearly dropped the milk. "Yeah, sounds good. Thanks Sarah." He hung up and turned around. Stiles tried to look busy capping the milk.  
"You teach?" Stiles questioned. Derek rolled his eyes.  _Obviously_. "What do you teach on Sundays?"  
"Tai Chi." Stiles' jaw dropped.  
" _What_?"  
"It's a form of exercise."  
"I know what it is," Stiles huffed, "I just can't…you teach Tai Chi? What is this?"  
"No one else wanted to take it," Derek said, rolling his eyes again.  
"Yeah but you're so…" he curled the fingers on his free hand mid air, " _rawr_  all the time. I can't see you being a teacher."  
"Thanks for the input. Are we going shopping?" Stiles pushed off the fridge and replaced the milk before turning back to Derek and mock bowing.  
"Apologies Sensei. I am ready now." That earned him a glare that was close to Flan and Stiles had to stifle his chuckle.  
"Don't you have three plates of food to devour first?"  
"Ooh can we get breakfast at the diner?"  
"No," Derek said immediately. Stiles frowned.  
"Why not? We can't cook here…"  
"It's not a good idea cupcake." Stiles rolled his eyes.  
"Why?"  
"I'm not sitting you down and explaining to you how everything works around here. Are you eating before we leave or not?"  
"You don't even have a skillet!" Stiles exhaled, running a hand over his hair.  
"I'll go find it," Derek spat.

Stiles was terribly tempted to let him go. Instead he blew out a sigh.  
"Just forget it," he said, "we can hit a drive-thru on the way to Walla Walla."  
"We're not going to Walla Walla," Derek returned.  
"Why?"  
"Because I'm driving and I said so."  
"Oh you just reek of maturity don't you?"  
"I don't reek of anything, unlike you."  
"Wasn't the whole point of the scenting thing for me to reek of you? So if I reek you certainly reek." Derek's jaw clenched and for just a second Stiles thought he was going to fire back. Instead he said,  
"Get in the car." Stiles was tempted to mock bow again but he knew he shouldn't push his luck. Derek already seemed…off this morning. He turned through the kitchen doorway and crossed the living room, yelping when Derek caught his shoulder at the door and leaned in. There was a long drag of breath against the back of his neck and Stiles froze perfectly. It was another long moment before Derek released him. "Guess you do reek of me," he exhaled simply. Stiles couldn't help a tiny shiver.  
"Glad it wasn't for nothing," he managed; tongue only tangling in his teeth for a second. He pulled open the door, glad of the blinding sunlight. After a few blinks he saw the approaching figures of Ross and Shane. Stiles' stomach dropped.  
"Mr. Stilinski," Ross smiled, folding his hands in front of him.  
"Hi," Stiles managed, looking to Shane as he stopped just behind Ross. Shane wasn't looking at him though. He was either looking at Derek or staring off into space.  
"Mr. Hale," Ross continued, "Mr. Turner has informed me of the occurrence yesterday. How would you like to deal with it?"  
"I wasn't aware it needed dealt with," Derek responded. Stiles knew just by his tone he did not want to see Derek's expression.  
"We can issue a restraint," Ross offered. Stiles' stomach dropped further. That did not sound good. Shane looked pained for a second and then it was gone.

"Wait, wait," Stiles broke in. "Is this about the sweatshirt? Seriously?"  
"I'm afraid it's a bit more than that Mr. Stilinski."  
"He was just being nice to me," Stiles argued. He didn't want to mention the fact that if Derek had been around Stiles wouldn't have been out in the first place, but if he had to he would. "If you're going to punish him you have to punish me too." If Ross was surprised by the statement he didn't show it.  
"Stiles don't," Shane murmured, glancing to him briefly.  
"You gave me a sweatshirt. I didn't have to accept it."  
"You were unaware of the implications Mr. Stilinski." Stiles scoffed, wishing his hair was long enough to pull on.  
"No one should be punished for being nice. He was just trying to look out for me. If anything you guys should be thanking him. What happens if I end up sick in bed with pneumonia? Derek's going to bring me chicken noodle soup? I doubt it!"  
"You would be taken to the infirmary, of course," Ross murmured, smiling again.  
"Oh well wouldn't that just be fantastic then? Then Derek could just go off and pretend he never even claimed me and I would be tucked away somewhere behind a curtain. Wouldn't everyone just be  _thrilled_?" Stiles had to stop for air and he suddenly realized how tense all three wolves were around him. He'd probably just crossed all sorts of lines dealing with their laws or traditions or whatever they even had. "Okay so I probably shouldn't have said that," he admitted rapidly. "But just…don't punish Shane. He was being nice. Tell me what to do and I'll do it just don't punish him."  
"I'm afraid the decision belongs to Mr. Hale." All the fight drained out of Stiles at that. Derek wasn't going to do him any favors, especially right now. His shoulders sagged and he sighed. When Shane glanced to him, one shoulder twitching in what might have been a shrug Stiles bit at his cheek before mumbling,  
"I'm sorry." He was. He'd never meant to get Shane in trouble. This was all hideously unfair.

"Tell me nothing was happening," Derek said slowly, "just tell me that. Tell me you were purely worried about his health and we're done here."  
"Nothing was happening," Shane murmured carefully. Stiles smiled for a split second, freezing as Derek snarled and Ross winced.  
"A week Ramsey."  
"Wait what?" Stiles questioned, neck craning as he looked to Derek. Derek was definitely in Baked Alaska and Stiles flinched when Derek grabbed him. There wasn't even a chance to say anything to Shane or Ross as he was dragged in the direction of Derek's car. "He said nothing was happening!" Stiles tried to protest.  
"He lied," Derek snarled, shoving him against the passenger door.  
"What…" Shane lied? "Does he…like me?" Stiles questioned slowly, totally unaware of the effect the words would have.  
"Get in the goddamn car, right now!" Stiles scrambled to obey, heart hammering doubly in his chest. He only managed one more glance to Shane as they left. His fists were clenched at his sides as he looked down to his feet, one of Ross' hands on his shoulder. Something in Stiles' chest wriggled uncomfortably and he threw himself into the seat before crossing his arms.  
"You didn't have to do that," he gritted, "what the hell is a restraint anyways?"  
"Buckle up," Derek bit out in response.  
"You don't even like me!" Stiles protested as he lifted one hand and buckled in with short, jerky motions. Derek didn't respond to that at all and Stiles huffed before crossing his arms again.

Stiles couldn't leave it at that. Words were tugging at his lips and burning on his tongue and he just couldn't keep them in. "I can't believe you're doing this," he exhaled. "He was helping me. Even if there was something there aren't you supposed to be self sacrificing and realize he was looking out for me? Instead of this alpha male bullshit?"  
"This is not up for discussion." Stiles gritted his teeth and groaned.  
"You are absolutely unbelievable!" Derek slammed on the breaks so suddenly the entire car groaned.  
"I have to mark my territory. Had I wanted to be unnecessarily cruel I could have demanded a battle for rights."  
"A  _what_?" Stiles demanded.  
"A battle for rights. For the claim over you. They rarely end without a death." He glanced to Derek before rolling his eyes.  
"Shane's like twice the size of you. Don't try to tell me you would win that battle and you're doing him a favor."  
"Shane can't kill anyone. He isn't capable."  
"And you are?" Stiles questioned shakily, suddenly breathless. Derek turned away and the car started moving again. Stiles supposed he didn't actually need a verbal response. He let his head fall to the window with a quick 'clunk' and tried not to think. There was no way for him to know if Derek was telling him the truth. Then again Derek didn't seem to care whether he was upsetting Stiles so there really wasn't much of a reason to lie. Plus it sort of sounded like the type of thing that would happen with werewolves. If he was telling the truth… Stiles sighed. If he was telling the truth maybe it wasn't so bad? He needed someone who knew what was going on that he could trust. Problem was the only wolf that fit that description was Shane. Stiles had the feeling they wouldn't be seeing too much of each other. There were still so many things buzzing around in his brain. But there were no answers so they just circled and circled. Why did Derek have to mark territory he didn't even want? How did that make sense? And how big of a deal was it that Shane had lent him a hoodie? What was that even about? Did Shane want some sort of claim on him? What was he after? Would the settlement really let Derek challenge Shane to a battle to the death? Over Stiles? Would they actually let Derek kill him? Maybe Derek was just saying that to sound good? How was Stiles supposed to know?

"It's done," Derek said when they pulled to a stop. Stiles realized he had no idea where they were. "You'd better just get over it." He climbed out of the car and Stiles was surprised when he didn't slam the door. He took a few moments before following. The words weren't exactly a comfort but Stiles supposed that Derek didn't have to say anything at all. But why was he even trying to defend him? It wasn't as if Derek had done him any favors. Stiles glanced to a Wal-Mart and rolled his eyes. Okay so he'd gone shopping. He'd bought food; limited food, Stiles reminded himself, and underwear. A soft whistle had him pausing and he turned back to Derek. "Where you think you're going?"  
"The…store?" Stiles asked, pointing vaguely towards the Wal-Mart.  
"Uh-uh," Derek said, tilting his head the opposite direction. Across the street there was a small strip of stores. Stiles supposed it was a bit far to walk to Wal-Mart so he turned and followed after Derek once again. "Less people." Stiles was shocked that he was explaining without even a question and he looked to Derek, who was walking slow enough to fall in beside him. Derek was watching his feet, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Was his odd behavior like…supposed to be an apology? Stiles felt like he was supposed to say something so he did.  
"What would you do if I told someone you kidnapped me?" Derek shot a glance to him and seemed to measure him a moment before looking back down.  
"Wing it I guess."  
"You'd just wing it?" One shoulder lifted briefly.  
"It's not like I've done this before. And Ross is giving us both extra leeway anyways. Normally leaving the settlement is not…as," he seemed to struggle with his words then, "it's not common. Especially with new mates." Stiles felt himself flush at the term and he didn't know if Derek looked back to him because he was suddenly the one that had to look away.  
"Why is he giving us extra leeway then?"  
"Let's go in here," Derek muttered, falling back a step and pulling open a door. That still wasn't open for discussion then. Stiles nodded and went through the door, trying to make it look as if that had been his plan all along.

Derek's hand landed on the small of his back and Stiles jumped as Derek guided him into the tiny furniture store. If Stiles wasn't so distracted by Derek's body heat and how close he was he might have wondered why they were in a furniture store. Instead he just felt his heart pumping harder in his chest as he tried not to react. "You're not going to try and run are you?" Derek whispered into his ear. Did he sound worried? He had good reason to be worried but Stiles had to remind himself of the fact.  
"You're faster than me and stronger than me, not to mention you live in a top secret settlement full of creatures that could tear me limb from limb. So the short answer is no I'm not and you can stop touching me now." Derek's hand dropped away and he vanished without another word between them. Stiles had only made it through a section of lamps before sighing. What was he supposed to be looking for? Were they looking for anything?  _They_? Were  _they_ looking for anything? Stiles fell more than sat in a plush leather chair. When had he and Derek become  _they_? That was not right. That was so not right. Stiles wasn't sure how long he sat there, utterly stunned by the thought his own brain had created. He felt betrayed yet again. Eventually he forced himself back to his feet, half because the clerk was glaring at him over his glasses as he read a magazine and half because he had no idea where Derek was. In the back of the store there was a set of bunk beds and a futon. Stiles paused at the futon and thought back to last night. The thump after the yell. Had Derek fallen off the couch? They-  _Derek_  Stiles struggled to correct himself, Derek should just buy a futon and take his bed back. It was ridiculous for him to move to the couch. He was bigger than Stiles anyways.  
"You ready?" Derek questioned and Stiles jumped again.  
"Why don't you buy a futon?" he blurted, shoving his hands in his back pockets.  
"A futon?" Derek repeated slowly.  
"Yeah," Stiles sank onto the huge blue cushion, "looks like a sofa, folds down to a bed." He let his arm trail over the back of it. "Has to be more comfortable than the couch."  
"Sure," Derek agreed, jaw clenching, "good idea." Derek turned to wave over the clerk and Stiles tried to fit his mouth back into his face.

When Stiles received yet another glare from the clerk he scrambled back off the futon and stood next to Derek. Derek was making a purchase and he looked scary, obviously the best protection.  
"Is this…young man with you?" the clerk questioned.  
"Yes," Derek answered simply, looking unimpressed. The clerk forced a smile.  
"Fantastic."  
"We'll take one of these." The clerk scrambled to obey and for some reason Stiles felt rather pleased with himself. At least he recognized that when Derek wasn't angry at him he could be a very good human shield. Derek turned for the front of the store and Stiles was quick to follow. It was several minutes before the clerk appeared, wheeling out a giant box on a flatbed cart. He pulled it to a stop by the cash register, taking a moment to tug on his shirt before stepping to the machine. He punched a few keys before glancing to Derek and then back to the keys under his hands.  
"$192.60." Derek slid his wallet out and handed over a silver card wordlessly. The cashier seemed to grow more nervous by the passing second and by the time he offered a slip of paper for Derek to sign his smile was pained. Derek replaced his card and grabbed the box, lifting it easily. Stiles hurried to get the door even though he was sure Derek didn't need his help. Derek carried the futon back to the car and put in the backseat, finishing before Stiles had figured out how he'd unlocked it with his hands full. He turned to find Stiles watching him, Derek quickly diverting his eyes.  
"We still need a skillet and paint."  
"Paint?" Stiles questioned.  
"Yeah." Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.  
"For what?"  
"Living room," Derek muttered as he passed him.

They barely talked the rest of the morning. It was still awkward between them because Stiles didn't know how he felt. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He nearly thanked Derek for buying him breakfast but cut off at the last second, biting into his tongue and glancing down as Derek looked to him, as if he'd known Stiles wanted to say something. After breakfast they went to a hardware store and picked up a set of pans and cans of paint. A light blue at Stiles' suggestion. He'd mumbled something about matching the futon, struggling desperately not to flush at the real reason he'd gravitated towards the blues. Derek went two shades lighter and they had the color just like that. Stiles didn't even realize until everything was in the trunk that he'd thought of them as  _they_ again. It was becoming a real problem. He sighed and ran a hand over his face.  
"You seem less…twitchy," Derek said slowly. Stiles flicked a glance to him without moving, gritting his teeth as muscles in his free hand jumped.  
"I'm not like that all the time. Just sometimes."  
"What about your medication?" Stiles shrugged and folded his arms across his chest.  
"I probably slept through the worst of the withdrawals." His hand wouldn't stop twitching and he really wished Derek hadn't brought it up. It only happened more when he thought about it.  
"So you're okay?" Stiles turned slightly to look at him then. That was awfully blunt.  
"Pretty much…yeah." Derek nodded shortly.  
"Okay." Derek moved around the driver's side and Stiles walked around the other side, climbing in. Derek glanced to him and it took a moment for Stiles to realize he was looking behind him, not at him. Derek crept out of the parking spot before flipping around and turning into the parking lot of Wal-Mart. He parked before looking to Stiles again. "No funny stuff right?" Stiles rolled his eyes in response.  
"If I tell you it's not worth putting my father in danger will you stop asking me that?" Derek blinked a few times, apparently needing more than that. "Look three months I get to go home, nobody gets hurt. I try to escape now, I'd need help obviously, and I'm assuming that while I might be safe as your mate the people that helped me would not be. I'm not willing to put my father at risk. He's all I have left." Stiles was mostly sure he hadn't meant to say the last bit out loud. "Plus you all know where I live," he added hastily, "so I wouldn't even be able to go home now would I?" This seemed to satisfy Derek because he climbed out of the car, waiting at the back of it for Stiles. He stepped closer and pulled up Stiles' hood, hands dropping away immediately.  
"Then let's just walk around and make sure we didn't forget anything, yes?" Stiles nodded. Once again he wondered if this was some attempt at either bribery or apology.

It was amazing how fast the cart filled up. Of course a toaster and a microwave took up most of the space. Stiles also grabbed a thick hoodie off the clearance rack after finding socks. He was surprised when they stopped in the section with comforters and sheets.  
"Oh right," he mumbled to himself. Of course Derek knew he needed one, he'd seen Stiles sleeping fully clothed last night. Not to mention he was already pale as death. Stiles rolled his eyes as he grabbed one of the bagged comforters. They moved through the food section and Stiles tried to be good but he grabbed four kinds of Pop-Tarts and several frozen pizzas. He was heavily tempted to make a dog comment as they passed the pet section but Stiles managed to stop himself. They went to the hardware section and Stiles grabbed drop cloths and painter's tape. "You've got trays and rollers right?" Derek shook his head. Stiles frowned before moving for rollers, trays, and paint brushes. "Anything else?" Derek glanced to the cart, which was overflowing now, his eyebrows moving up,  
"I can't think of anything."  
"Sweet," Stiles exhaled, "let's go." Their cartful ended up being nearly $400 but Derek didn't seem fazed by it. "That was expensive," he mumbled as they pushed the cart to the car.  
"Don't worry about it," Derek said, "I'm holding you captive. It's the least I can do."  
"Well…thanks then." There was a brief pause.  
"You're welcome."  
"Cool," Stiles said lamely, because he felt like he should say something again.  
"You want to stop for lunch?" Derek questioned as they loaded the trunk, artfully fitting some things in the backseat as well.  
"Um yes."  
"Where does it all go?" Derek questioned, pausing at his door and looking at Stiles over the roof of his car. Stiles put on a thoughtful expression and patted his stomach with both hands.  
"Maybe I'm not human." Derek's lips twitched. He shook his head slightly before getting in.

They'd barely settled into the table before the waitress hurried over.  
"Mr. Hale!" she gushed, "I've never seen you out of class before! This is so exciting! How are you? Oh my goodness who is this? Your little brother?" Stiles burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. The waitress, a slip of a woman, blonde hair pulled high on her head, makeup too heavy and perfume too thick, was practically in Derek's lap and he looked absolutely horrified. She paused then, hands in front of her awkwardly as she pulled at her fingers and glanced to Stiles. After another moment of silence she began gnawing on her bottom lip, bright pink lip gloss and all.  
"Chloe," he exhaled slowly, "I'm fine. That's Stiles." He offered no further explanation and Stiles immediately began constructing a story in his head.  
"Oh! Um…Stiles?"  
"Derek's grandmother is in my nana's knitting circle," Stiles offered, grinning at her. She smiled widely, displaying lip gloss stuck to her teeth.  
"Oh that's fantastic! You never talk about your family," she said, turning back to Derek.  
"Yes well," Derek began, glaring at Stiles, "I like to keep business and pleasure separate."  
"Pleasure? You flatter me Dare."  
"That um, that makes sense," Chloe said, now actively struggling to get her notepad out of her apron. "Maybe I should take your drink orders?" she questioned, finally freeing it.  
"Jack on the rocks," Stiles said, folding his hands on the table and looking to her expectantly. Chloe pursed her lips and Derek cut in.  
"For me," he gritted, "a coke or his nana will have my head." Stiles would have pouted if he wasn't so busy trying to remember how to breathe.

As soon as Chloe turned to leave they leaned forward.  
"They call you Mr. Hale?" Stiles nearly choked. "How is this real?"  
"Behave yourself," Derek snarled in response. "She's in two of my classes!" Stiles giggled, biting his lips in an effort to stop.  
"Well she would be she's obviously in love with you!" Derek rolled his eyes and sat back.  
"As much as I try to discourage crushes there are always a stubborn few who continue to take the class." Stiles giggled again, covering his mouth as Chloe approached. She set down their drinks and smiled at Derek.  
"Were you ready to order?"  
"We'll need a few minutes," Derek said, not looking away from Stiles who was still giggling.  
"This is too much," Stiles panted, dabbing at his eyes. "They probably love all your brooding mysteriousness and your stubble. They get lost in your eyes don't they? Oh my god they totally want your tai in their chi." Derek winced at that, lifting his glass and downing the amber fluid in one swallow. "They want to become one with you." He broke off in another fit of giggles and Derek lifted a menu to slap him with it.  
"Figure out what you want to eat or we're leaving."  
"Cut me some slack," Stiles gasped, "you teaching Tai Chi is like me competitively playing chess."  
"Competitively eating I might believe," Derek muttered, crossing his arms.  
"Actually if I could sit still chess wouldn't be such a problem. Maybe I should have said weightlifting?"  
"I teach boxing and kickboxing too, for your information." Stiles took several deep breaths, waiting until he was semi calm to speak again.  
"Now that I can see," he allowed, wiping at his eyes before picking up the menu.  
"I am so glad you approve," Derek muttered dryly.

Derek kicked Stiles under the table the moment he opened his mouth to order so Stiles refrained from making the joke sitting on his lips.  
"Lasagna," he let out, wincing.  
"Good choice," Chloe said, nodding as she wrote. "And for you Mr. Hale?"  
"I'll have a burger with everything, rare."  
"Fries okay with that?" He nodded, glancing to Stiles who was taking a sip of coke. Stiles lifted an eyebrow but Derek didn't acknowledge him. "Did you want another drink?" Chloe questioned next.  
"I'll switch to water thank you Chloe." She smiled brightly, tucking away her notepad and picking up the small glass before leaving.  
" _Mr. Hale_ ," Stiles mocked, "I prefer Sensei."  
"I don't," Derek glowered.  
"Of course you don't you're no fun." Derek rolled his eyes.  
"And your definition of fun is?"  
"Not you."  
"Stunning logic."  
"I know," Stiles smiled. Derek rolled his eyes again and fell silent. Stiles spent the remainder of the time waiting for food staring wistfully at a little girl who had a placemat with mazes on it. He spent a few minutes mourning both crayons and his childhood before their food finally arrived. Chloe was nearly calm by that point, still smiling broadly. Stiles dug his fork into his steaming pasta as a distraction. He stole a few fries off Derek's plate as they ate and Derek smiled as if he'd expected it. By the end of the meal Stiles was full of good food and feeling pretty okay. The ride back didn't seem very long at all.


	5. When We were Liars

Stiles shouldn't have been surprised that Derek didn't have the patience to properly tape off the room. It was about thirty seconds before he was banished to unload the car and set up the microwave and toaster. Derek went, hints of a wry smile pulling at his lips. He might even have muttered 'bossy' as he left but Stiles was busy climbing on the couch and taping off the ceiling so he couldn't be sure. At least he didn't need to ask if Derek wanted to try and peel off the wallpaper. He rolled his eyes, stretching higher. He couldn't imagine Derek being patient enough to peel off the wallpaper. Stiles hadn't gotten very far before Derek returned. Stiles blew out a sigh before turning to him.  
"Okay," he said, setting his hands on his hips, "why don't you take down the curtains then?" Derek rolled his eyes before crossing the room, giving Stiles a light push as he did. Of course, seeing as he was already precariously balanced on the back of an old sofa, Stiles flailed through the air and crashed to the carpet. The shock jarred the air from his lungs and he was trying to inhale as he watched the roll of tape he'd been applying pull off the strip he'd just painstakingly put up. It thumped to the floor as well, no doubt gathering lint and dust bunnies as it did. "Whoops…" Stiles tossed his hand over his eyes.  
"I hate you," he moaned.  
"It probably wasn't perfectly straight anyways," Derek shrugged before turning for the curtains. Stiles shot him a glare but it quickly fell off his face as Derek stretched up onto his tip toes to reach the curtain rod and pull the hooks down. The muscles of his shoulders bunched up and rolled beneath his gray shirt, the fabric lifting to reveal skin above his belt the further up his arms stretched. Stiles eyes wandered lazily down the lines of his legs to the pads of his feet. When had he taken his shoes off? More importantly why was Stiles laying there ogling him? He shook himself before pushing off the floor and grabbing the roll of tape.

He went to the doorway of the kitchen, starting out along the baseboards. He only looked up from his work when Derek addressed him again. "Where you want these boss?" He held the bundled up curtains in his arms, looking to Stiles expectantly. He rolled his eyes.  
"Out of the way, obviously."  
"Obviously," Derek echoed before stepping past him and moving through the kitchen. He was back too soon, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. Stiles blew out a sigh.  
"Why don't you open the drop cloths and then mix the paint."  
"Mix the paint?" Derek repeated, one eyebrow creeping up. Stiles gritted his teeth.  
"Are you trying to be infantile?"  
"We only bought one color so I don't see what I'm mixing."  
"Stir mix," Stiles said, flopping back onto his shins and waving his hand around. "Get the sticks they gave us and stir it before you put it in the trays. Jesus how did you ever do this by yourself?"  
"Don't know," Derek deadpanned, "sure seemed easier by myself." Stiles bit his lip instead of responding. How had the conversation gone down that path? As if he needed a reminder that no one wanted him to be here.  
"Do whatever you want," he snapped, moving to the baseboard again, "I'm taping off the room." He stared intently at his work and tried his best to ignore the fact that Derek hesitated several moments before crossing the room again.

They didn't talk again until all the baseboards and staircase were taped off and the drop cloths had been spread over the carpet beneath the walls.  
"What about the couch?" Derek questioned.  
"I need it for the ceiling unless you've got a ladder," Stiles answered, not looking at him.  
"It doesn't have to be perfect," Derek informed him, "it just has to be-" he cut off and Stiles looked away from the wrinkle in the drop cloth he'd just chosen to study.  
"Just has to be what?" Derek scowled at nothing in particular.  
"I'll go find one," he muttered, stalking towards the front door. Stiles was about to warn him he didn't have shoes on but he was gone too quickly.  _It just has to be what?_ Stiles scratched the back of his head absently. Derek had a lot of secrets. Why was he suddenly eager to paint the living room anyways? It was clear that he wasn't excited about it. Stiles couldn't help but recall the first time his mom had let him pick out the paint color for his own room and how thrilled he'd been. Obviously this was different. He rolled his eyes quickly. All he knew was that Derek wanted to paint the room a light shade. He didn't really care how it looked so it couldn't just be that he was tired of the wallpaper, or at least, chances were slim. And it obviously wasn't because he had Stiles' free labor because he was complaining about Stiles' every move. Stiles scratched his head again before huffing out a breath. He went into the kitchen for a snack, still puzzling over Derek as he ripped open a package of Pop-Tarts and took a savage bite of one. The front door opened and Stiles forced himself not to move. "Here," Derek called out. Stiles stepped forward then, food still in hand. Derek had set a short ladder, looked like half of one really, just inside the door. "Good enough?" Stiles nodded as he chewed.  
"You want some help with the couch?" he mumbled, mouth full.  
"I think I can handle it," Derek exhaled dryly.  
"Fine, fine. Be one with the couch Sensei." Derek's lips twitched and Stiles wondered if he'd just seen the world's shortest smile. He leaned against the wall and watched as Derek approached the green monster, wondering how Derek was planning on maneuvering it with how long it was. This ought to be interesting.

Derek stared at the couch for a long moment. "Maybe if you karate chop it hard enough it'll break in half," Stiles suggested.  
"Why are you always talking?" Derek questioned.  
"Because I have a mouth and it's a free country," Stiles answered easily. "Too bad you didn't kidnap me in Cuba." Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.  
"Are you going to help me or not?" he demanded.  
"All you had to do was ask," Stiles murmured, stepping back to toss the other pastry on top of the fridge. He stopped at the end of the couch closest to him waiting for Derek to take the other end. They both gripped the arm rests.  
"Ready?" Derek questioned. Stiles nodded and lifted. Derek started moving as soon as the couch was in the air and Stiles followed. They carried it out the open front door and around to the garage before setting it down. "Hold on," Derek told him, disappearing back inside. The garage door creaked open and Derek reappeared. "I've got it from here," he said.  
"Okay," Stiles agreed, glancing inside the garage. It was an unholy mess and he saw not only a few lamps but what looked like bed posts and a few pieces of wood. He decided to go inside without commenting. With his luck Derek would want to clean that out as his next project. Stiles was not going to become his slave for three months. No way. Stiles dragged the ladder to the far wall and picked up the roll of tape before climbing up. The half wall before the doorway took no time at all and Stiles was on to the doorway itself before Derek had returned. He moved the cans of paint further into the room before grabbing the trays. When the first lid fell to the floor stiles looked down to see that Derek had ripped it open with his bare hands. He gaped for a few moments before switching to the other side of the doorway.  _Werewolf_. He had to remind himself again. Derek stirred the paint, probably not enough, before pouring it into a tray and moving to the half wall that Stiles had already finished.

He attacked the wall. There really wasn't any other way to describe the way Derek painted. The roller moved rapidly as paint squelched in strokes that were short and violent. "What are you doing?" Stiles demanded.  
"What?" Derek looked to him, "What now?"  
"Well nothing I guess you're just going to be really pissed off when you get done if you keep going like that." Derek stared at him a long moment, roller frozen on the wall.  
"It needs done." Stiles rolled his eyes then, hopping off the stool.  
"I'm aware." He moved behind Derek and gripped his forearm in both hands before moving his arm up and down slowly. "Painting is time consuming as it is. There's no reason to rush. Just take it easy. Back and forth, simple." He was dying to say  _wax on, wax off_ but chances were Derek wouldn't understand the reference and this close he could crush Stiles with one hand. It probably wasn't worth the risk.  
"It'll just take even longer," Derek protested.  
"But you'll be calmer."  
"I doubt it."  
" _Fine_ ," he dropped Derek's arm, "I will be calmer. I can't listen to that for the rest of the day."  
"You are infuriating for your size," Derek informed him, roller moving again but at a much more relaxed pace.  
"If I was huge and infuriating you'd know how I feel," Stiles shot back. "Just do your Tai Chi breathing or something."  
"You're never going to let that go are you?"  
"Nope."

Stiles moved on taping and Derek kept painting and for a long time they worked in silence sharing the same room. When the taping was done Stiles went back to where Derek had started with a brush and got the edges he'd left, eventually catching up to him and working around his feet. It worked well enough for a while until Stiles' brush slipped and a stripe of blue ended up on Derek's toes. "Uhm," he let out, eyes wide. He looked up ever so slowly, cringing when he saw Derek glaring down at him. "Sorry?"  
"You did that on purpose." Stiles' jaw fell open.  
"I did  _not_. You know I get twitchy!" This did nothing to lessen Derek's glare and Stiles squeaked as he felt a quick swipe against the top of his head. "You didn't," he protested without much hope.  
"I get twitchy too," Derek said, moving back to the wall.  
"You do not!" Stiles huffed, fingertips inching into his hair. He recoiled when they encountered something wet. "You painted my hair," he whined, "oh my god." He tried to wipe his hand on the drop cloth, tempted to roll over and try and wipe off his scalp as well. "What happened to Tai Chi breathing?" he demanded after a moment pouting.  
"You," Derek replied.  
"I'm pretty sure that's offensive. In fact, I am offended." Derek ignored him, stepping to the side and painting more of the wall. Stiles huffed before dropping his brush to the drop cloth and stomping to the kitchen. He turned on the faucet and shoved his head under, distressed to see milky water run into the sink. "I hate you!" He had to turn to yell and therefore choked when paint and water slid right into his open mouth. He jerked his head up and hit the faucet, coughing desperately. "Oh god ew, gross, oh my god. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." He lifted the hem of his shirt and tried to scrub his tongue off, wincing. The worst thing he'd ever put in his mouth by accident. Hands down. He spun and slammed his hand down on the faucet, shutting it off as he mumbled to himself. "Are you laughing at me?" he demanded, reentering the living room and putting his hands on his hips. Derek sobered, roller moving again.  
"No," he chuckled. He stalked to Derek, possibly the angriest he'd ever been with the werewolf, and yanked up the back of his shirt before bending to wipe off his face and hair. "Hey!" Derek spun so fast he nearly knocked Stiles over, dropping his roller and yanking his shirt down.

Stiles held up a single finger.  
"I painted you accidentally. You painted me on purpose," he said simply. "Bad dog." He should have been more worried that Derek didn't really react. The next thing he knew Derek had retrieved his roller and ran it right down Stiles' face. For the longest moment Stiles stood stock still, disbelief filtering through every inch of him. Then he dove for his brush. Derek dove too and being both faster and stronger Stiles found himself pinned to the floor, Derek holding both of his wrists easily.  
"Calm down," Derek ordered, lips quirked.  
"I hate you," Stiles repeated, pulling at his wrists before trying to lift his hips. Neither part of his body moved a centimeter. Derek leaned closer.  
"Calm down." Stiles stuck out his tongue, wincing when paint got dragged back in on the muscle. He choked again, jerking when his left eye began to burn.  
"Oh my god it's in my eye!" he shouted, "Get off me get off me fucking get  _off_!" He was released pretty much the second he started shouting but it took a bit longer for Stiles to realize it. He stumbled to his feet and moved for the stairs, tripping over his own feet in his blind panic. He was being pulled then, carried up the stairs when he failed to climb the first one. He reached for the shower handle as soon as it swam into his vision and he turned it on before shoving his face under the spray, forcing his eyes open. The next several minutes were spent frantically scrubbing at his face and eyes, totally ignoring the horrid taste in his mouth. Stiles was surprised he hadn't drowned himself by the time he shut the water off. His left eye was still burning and itchy now but his right eye felt okay, miraculously. He glowered when he saw Derek waiting with a towel, not bothering to say anything. Derek gestured to the toilet and Stiles sat down, sighing before tilting his face up to be mopped off.

"Do you want to go to the infirmary?" Derek questioned, towel moving over Stiles' neck slowly.  
"I'll be fine," he said tightly.  
"Okay," Derek agreed.  
"You could have fucking blinded me!" Stiles gritted, hands clenching into fists.  
"I'm sorry," Derek only looked at him for a split second before looking away again, "I wasn't thinking-I didn't think and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." Stiles was going to snap at him again but then he noticed the towel was shaking. He deflated unexpectedly.  
"I'll be okay," he said lamely. "You were just reacting to me being a dumbass anyways." Stiles took the towel from him and dried his hair before drying his face gently.  
"I'll finish painting," Derek offered after a tense moment.  
"I'll cook one of the pizzas in a bit," Stiles offered in return.  
"Alright." Derek didn't leave immediately and Stiles wondered if he was thinking about saying something but he didn't look to him, examining the smears on the towel instead. Derek evidently decided against it and left. Stiles didn't make himself move immediately. A slight pounding was starting at his temples and he squeezed his eyes closed against it. That was about the last thing he needed right now. He didn't stand until his head had cleared and then he went to change clothes. As he descended the stairs he had to resist the urge to rub his eye. That wouldn't help and he knew it. He didn't look at Derek as he passed; he just went straight to the freezer and pulled out a pizza. He turned to pre-heat the oven and then blew out a breath. It would probably be a bad idea to let this linger. He sighed again before walking back into the living room. "You don't have to help," Derek told him, not looking away from the wall.  
"Just shut up," Stiles sighed in response.

They ate the pizza even though Stiles had somehow managed to burn the crust. He vowed to experiment with the oven in the future as he ate in the stairwell, Derek didn't leave the kitchen until he went back to painting. Stiles stayed on the steps for a while, watching him and trying to get some sort of a handle on his feelings. There was no handle though. It was a chaotic swing and tangle of confusion and anger and embarrassment and Stiles couldn't even find which way was up. He pushed off the stairs and went back to painting. At least then he didn't have to think. Painting soothed him as it usually did and for Stiles it wasn't much longer before they were done. He surveyed the room with a small smile. It looked pretty good. After another moment he stifled a yawn and eyed the stairs. Yeah sleep sounded pretty good right about now. "Well I think I'm going to head to bed," he exhaled. It was only then that Derek glanced around the empty living room, frowning. The futon was still in its box, probably in the garage.  
"Um," Derek's frown deepened, "where am I sleeping?"  
"Couch is still in the garage right?" Derek's eyes widened and Stiles could have sworn it was panic filling them.  
"Yeah," he breathed so quietly Stiles barely caught it.  
"I was kidding," Stiles lied. "Pretty sure I can last one night without trying to tear your clothes off and have my way with you." Derek didn't comment and he exhaled sharply before shaking himself and looking to Stiles again.  
"Did you want to go up first?" he questioned, suddenly busying himself cleaning up.  
"Sure," Stiles agreed slowly. He waited to see if Derek was going to say anything else but he didn't so Stiles climbed the stairs, shaking his head to himself. Up in the bedroom he draped his wet clothes over the dresser before unzipping the comforter from its bag and throwing it over the bed. He stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt before climbing in and pulling the cover to his chest.

Derek knocked before coming in, still remaining silent as he stepped out of his shoes and stripped off his shirt. It was another moment before he took off his jeans and they joined Stiles' clothes on the floor. Stiles purposely looked out the window as Derek flipped off the light and climbed in, staying above the comforter.  
"I really am sorry," Derek told him. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek.  
"I'm fine now," he said eventually.  
"Well goodnight."  
"Goodnight." Stiles wished it was that easy but he couldn't remember the last time he'd shared a bed with someone. Derek's heavy weight on the comforter and his quiet breathing were constant reminders and Stiles couldn't get his mind to settle. Not to mention he normally moved in his sleep and he didn't want to accidentally kick Derek out of the bed or wake up on top of him. He ran a hand down his face. It was going to be a long night. He wasn't sure how long it was before Derek's breathing kicked up. Stiles glanced across the shadows to him, feeling himself frown. Derek's lips started moving too but Stiles couldn't make out what he was saying. It took another moment but then it hit. Derek was having a nightmare.  _The_ nightmare Stiles supposed. The one with Laura. As if on cue, Derek started whispering her name. It was nearly frantic the way he said it, over and over. "Derek," Stiles tried, wincing as he wondered how Derek would wake if he did. Derek grunted in response, jaw clenching.  
"Laura," he breathed again, eyes shut tightly.  
"Derek," Stiles called louder, tempted to try and shake him. Derek flinched as if Stiles had struck him and Stiles felt horrible. "It's okay," he tried next, voice quieter. He reached out slowly, hesitating at the next hushed,  
"Laura," but finally catching Derek's fist in his hand.  
"It's okay," he repeated, scooting closer. He couldn't think of anything else to do so he held onto Derek's hand, biting at his cheek and failing to notice as Derek quieted down. When he did notice he looked up in shock but as far as he could tell Derek was still sleeping. Relief swept over Stiles so thickly that he didn't wonder about Laura for several more moments. He was still holding onto Derek as the thought struck him. Maybe he wasn't Derek's first mate.


	6. Things were Seamless

Stiles woke alone. The sun was already up and by how heavy his body was Stiles guessed it was at least early afternoon. He lay still for a few moments, listening. The house was silent and eventually he pushed himself out of bed and stretched before dressing slowly. The drop cloths were gone as well as the painter's tape. The futon was in the box in the center of the room and Stiles was surprised to find Derek in the kitchen.  
"Hey," he murmured.  
"Good afternoon," Derek returned.  
"Living room looks good," Stiles offered, hesitating in the doorway.  
"Yeah," Derek agreed.  
"You okay?" Derek turned sharply to look at him, eyebrows pinching together.  
"What?"  
"Are you okay?" Stiles repeated slower.  
"I'm fine. Why?" Stiles shrugged.  
"You let me sleep in I guess."  
"Yeah well…I don't sleep much. Not fair to push that on you." Stiles had no idea what to say to that.  
"What's the plan for today?" he questioned eventually.  
"There's a gathering tonight," Derek murmured, "everyone celebrates the mating." There was a long pause as Stiles silently wondered what kind of things would happen at this gathering. "Did you want to go?" Derek asked haltingly.  
"What exactly happens at these things?"  
"It's mainly for the new members of the pack to meet everyone. Newly claimed mates will also tend to show off. There will be tons of food and some traditional dances by some of the more…enthusiastic members of the pack." Derek's dry tone revealed exactly what he thought of these dances and Stiles suddenly wanted to see them. He wondered if Derek and he could share a joke that wasn't aimed at one of them.  
"Sounds interesting," Stiles offered neutrally.  
"So we'll go," Derek said after another silent moment.

Stiles thought about making a date joke but reached on top of the fridge for his Pop-Tart instead, gasping when a huge clump of dust followed his hand down. "Guess I could clean that off," Derek said. Stiles just crossed to the trashcan he'd long ago pulled out from under the sink and dropped both the Pop-Tart and the dust bunny in.  
"So what are we doing before the gathering?"  
"I was gonna put the futon together. Did you want to help?" Stiles lifted one shoulder.  
"Sure." It wasn't like there was anything else to do. Last time he'd gone wandering around the settlement had ended badly. Derek half gestured to the living room and Stiles turned around before stopping next to the box. Derek sliced the box open neatly before pulling up the flaps. Stiles pulled out the cushion, dropping it to the floor before flopping down on it and laughing.  
"What are you doing?" Derek demanded lightly, half turning to him.  
"Breaking this in, obviously," Stiles answered, fixing the hem of his shirt before grinning at him.  
"What would I do without you?" Derek questioned.  
"Eat raw bacon and ignore the advances of Chloe the waitress," Stiles answered easily. Derek snorted before bending to the box. He began pulling out the pieces and Stiles watched. "Things aren't weird right?" He hadn't meant to say that out loud. He was mostly sure he hadn't meant to say that out loud.  
"Weird?" Derek questioned, examining a bag of bolts.  
"Yeah," Stiles muttered, "just like…" he didn't want to say Derek was acting weird, "you're not glaring at me…"  
"You're complaining that I'm being nice?"  
"Whoa, okay slow down I did not say you were being nice. I said you weren't being as…snarky as usual."  
"What the hell does snarky mean?" Derek demanded, dropping the bolts and pulling out pieces of what must have been the frame.  
"Not knowing means you're ancient."

"You gonna tell me or not?" Stiles sighed and readjusted himself on the cushion.  
"Snarky means short tempered or generally unpleasant to be around." Derek shook his head slowly.  
"You're crazy."  
"I'm taking that as a compliment. And you didn't answer my question."  
"No things are not weird," Derek sighed, setting the box aside. "Maybe I'm just in a good mood."  
"Oh. Are you?"  
"I thought I was," Derek said, glancing to him quickly with a slight frown. Stiles just smiled, which he was sure was not the right response.  
"Shutting up."  
"Good," Derek grumbled.  
"Shouldn't you read the instructions?" Stiles questioned, pushing himself up to his elbows.  
"That can be your job," Derek said, pushing the box towards him. Stiles reached inside the box for the small pamphlet, flopping back on the cushion as he read it.  
"Oh good," he let out, "there's pictures."  
"Thrilling," Derek agreed. Eventually Stiles crawled over to help, separating pieces before beginning to put the frame together. They worked pretty well together when Stiles didn't talk so he tried to be on good behavior, as strange as it was for him. Finally they had a futon in front of them and Stiles hopped onto it, smiling as it held. "Something just fell off," Derek informed him.  
"Hm?"  
"Something just hit the floor," Derek said, craning his neck to look under the futon. Stiles slid off before crawling under the futon, coming back up with a nut.  
"Got it," he smiled again. They turned the futon on its back and Derek put the nut back on, making sure it was tight. He pulled it back up and Stiles went to the side before flattening the futon into a bed. "Ha! Look at that. Perfect." He climbed back in and spread out. "This is pretty great. I can sleep here no problem."  
"What are you talking about?" Derek questioned. "Get off my futon."  
"What? You can have your bed back. Don't be stupid."  
"Move it," Derek insisted, pushing at Stiles' knee. Stiles grumbled before climbing off.  
"You're seriously insisting that I stay in your bed and you sleep on the futon?"  
"I am," Derek exhaled, sitting on the edge and crossing his arms.

Instead of telling him how ridiculous that was Stiles rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen for food. He really should have eaten earlier and now his stomach was growling fiercely. He went through the cabinets quickly, dissatisfied with everything he found. Stiles wanted something hot and delicious but he also wanted it now. When Derek stepped into the kitchen Stiles was on the counter on his knees, peering into yet another cupboard, not that it would reveal something he hadn't already seen. "You want to go to the diner?" Stiles turned so fast he nearly fell off, only his grip on the door holding him up.  
"What?"  
"Diner," Derek said dryly, "food."  
"But…what about-" he cut off, not wanting Derek to glare for the first time that day.  
"It won't be a problem if I'm with you." Stiles' teeth tugged on his bottom lip.  
"You sure?" he asked hesitantly.  
"Yeah."  
"Okay," Stiles wiggled back off the counter, "I'll go get my shoes then." Stiles took longer than necessary to put on his shoes, his stomach complaining the entire time. Why was Derek doing this? Because Stiles was hungry or because he wanted another chance at an alpha male show? Stiles grunted to himself and let his head fall into his hands. This was bullshit. Why could he never know what was going on? More than anything he couldn't figure out Derek. If he couldn't stand him why claim him? If he didn't want him why was he, sometimes, being nice to him? Was it an obligation to take care of his mate? Something wolfy inside him driving him? Or was maybe something else going on? Maybe Derek protested too much. Stiles rejected that thought almost immediately. Yeah right. Derek could hardly stand him and at night he dreamt of someone else. Sitting here going in circles wasn't helping anything. Stiles pushed off the bed and hurried down the stairs. Derek was waiting by the door, pulling it open for Stiles as he hit the bottom step. "Thanks," Stiles let out as he passed. Derek followed him and they set off towards the diner. Neither of them spoke and Stiles thought the silence was tense but he wasn't sure if it was because of him or Derek. Much like he didn't know anything anymore.

It wasn't until they stepped into the diner that Stiles thought this was officially a bad decision. His stomach twisted nastily as several heads swiveled towards them. Shane was behind the counter, smiling for only a second, people Stiles didn't recognize were on the other side of the counter on the stools and a few more people were scattered in booths around the room. He thought he saw the back of Aubrey's head and if it was her, her mate as well but he couldn't be sure and then Derek was ushering him towards a booth in the opposite direction. "I'm suddenly feeling like this maybe isn't such a great idea," Stiles muttered, trying to pull out of Derek's grasp.  
"Why?" Derek grunted. "You're hungry," he added.  
"Yeah but I mean-"  
"What can I get you?" Shane asked, cutting them off. Stiles jerked towards him, eyes moving over him quickly. Shane looked okay, other than a huge black bracelet on his wrist.  
"Hi," Stiles blurted. Shane offered him a quick smile.  
"Hey Stiles."  
"How are you?"  
"Don't worry about me little man, I'm doing just fine. Now I know you're hungry cause you're always hungry so what do you want to eat?"  
"Um…a burger I guess," Stiles exhaled, unable to keep from smiling even as he felt himself flush.  
"Hale?" Shane questioned next.  
"Same for me Shane thanks."  
"No problem." Shane reached out to ruffle Stiles' hair, Stiles squawking and smacking at him, before turning to go.  
"Rude," Stiles muttered, looking up to see Derek smirking. "What?" he demanded.  
"You're such a kid," Derek announced.  
"One he ruffled my hair and two you are ancient." Derek rolled his eyes.  
"Only according to you." Shane delivered soda to Stiles and water to Derek before disappearing again. Stiles toyed with his cup as he tried to examine Derek subtly. Maybe he really was just in a good mood. Stiles wondered where it had come from.

The meal passed with relative ease and Stiles was surprised how nice Derek was to Shane. He even came back from the bathroom to see them speaking to each other without him even there. Maybe now that his territory had been marked Derek could ease up. Whatever it was Stiles was glad that there didn't seem to be any tension between them. He still really liked Shane and Derek still didn't have much of a reason to be getting all pissed off about the situation anyways. Plus Stiles wasn't romantically attached to either male so it was all ridiculous in the first place. He sighed internally at the thought. But it was okay because at least things seemed to be getting better with Derek. And really things could be worse because they'd already had sex and Stiles rarely even thought about that part of their relationship at all. But if Shane remembered almost claiming him then did Derek remember claiming him? Stiles almost choked on his drink at that thought. What was he just thinking about this situation being okay?  
"What?" Derek questioned him.  
"Huh? No nothing," Stiles barked, realizing his face was probably as red as a fire hydrant.  
"Are you okay?"  
"Perfectly fine," Stiles lied, lifting his cup and taking a large gulp before stuffing a fry in his mouth for good measure. "You should eat," he added, mouth full, "it's good."  
"I am eating," Derek said, clearly amused. "Just at a normal speed." Stiles scoffed but swallowed before speaking again.  
"Who wants to be normal?"  
"I wouldn't know," Derek replied with a quick shake of his head.  
"Exactly." Stiles grinned down at his plate before picking up his burger again. His mind started whirring with activity and Stiles wished he had a hope of controlling it. If Derek remembered the mating… "Wait so are you like…sentient when you're wolfy?" Derek blinked a few times.  
"For the most part," he allowed, lips pursing in what might have been confusion.  
"So do you um-remember where we…were?"  
"Maybe we could talk about this another time?" Derek suggested tightly. Stiles had to drop his gaze to the table top.  
"No I mean I just…I dropped something."  
"Your phone was too damaged to bother with," Derek informed him after a moment.  
"It wasn't that," Stiles insisted quietly.  
"Oh."  
"Not a big deal," Stiles mumbled. It  _was_ a big deal but it suddenly occurred to Stiles that Derek was right and they were in public where nearly everyone had flawless hearing. Maybe now was not the time to discuss their mating sex.

"What was it?" Derek questioned on the walk back and for a long moment Stiles didn't know what he was talking about.  
"Oh," he exhaled as it occurred to him, "it was just…a little seashell." He didn't really feel like expanding on that so he didn't. Maybe he could have a mysterious silence for once.  
"You wanted to go look for it?"  
"Uh," no point lying, "yeah."  
"It would take hours," Derek said, "probably." Stiles felt the disappointment wash through him, sloshing around in his stomach, and tried not to let it show on his face. "You'd probably get lost on your own," Derek continued. He had a point there and Stiles knew it.  
"Yeah," he managed neutrally.  
"I don't have to work on Friday," Derek said next. Stiles' surprise must have shown on his face because he continued, looking away. "It'll be dark soon and the gathering is tonight."  
"Right," Stiles said quickly, "right of course. So Friday?" Derek nodded once and Stiles smiled slightly. Maybe they'd be able to find it, somehow.  
"Friday," Derek agreed.  
"Thank you," Stiles smiled around the words, the urge to hug Derek or just get closer to him somehow washing over him suddenly. He frowned to himself before shaking it off. He was grateful that was all. He could certainly be grateful without touching Derek. Where had that even come from seriously? Getting back to the house was a relief and Stiles hurried up the stairs to put walls between Derek and him. He could breathe again, just a bit, with his forehead pressing against the solid wood of the door. A tremor ran over him but he didn't even care. For the longest moment he simply appreciated being alone. Away from prying eyes. Away from Derek and the pressure over not knowing what he was doing or what was going on around him. After a few moments Stiles drifted backwards to the bed and sat down. It was another few moments before he laid back and let his eyes close.

Stiles only realized he'd fallen asleep when something nudged his knee. His eyes jerked open to see Derek, already back in the doorway.  
"Everyone's heading down to the clearing," he murmured, "you wanna go?"  
"Yeah," Stiles said quickly, voice still thick with sleep. He sat up and stretched his shoulders before yawning and rubbing his eye. "Okay," he exhaled, "I'm good." Derek looked skeptical but turned for the stairs anyways. Stiles stretched again before grabbing a hoodie and following. The walk was quiet and Stiles didn't mind, still trying to actually wake up his brain. As they got closer Stiles smelled smoke and only then noticed the orange glow ahead of them. He couldn't help his lips twisting at that. Campfire in the woods. "Are there gonna be s'mores?" he demanded. There was a brief pause before,  
"Smells like it." Stiles grinned.  
"Awesome." They grew closer and Stiles saw more and more silhouettes gathered ahead of them. "Is there anything I need to know? Like…is there anything I'm not supposed to do?" Derek squinted at him for a long moment and Stiles stumbled slightly, looking where he was going again.  
"Don't throw yourself in the fire?" Derek suggested. Stiles rolled his eyes.  
"I'm just asking alright?" he huffed, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets.  
"Well," Derek said slowly, "I've never been to one of these before so your guess is as good as mine."  
"Never?" Stiles demanded, "How long have you lived here?"  
"A few years," Derek returned. Stiles snuck another glance at him, but Derek was looking away.  
"So how come you've never gone?"  
"Never had a reason to." Stiles guessed, correctly, that that was the end of the conversation. He decided to just be on good behavior and try to see how the other humans were acting. But he didn't even know how many humans were still here. Aubrey and Taylor yeah but what about the rest of them? Had they been claimed? What about Logan? Surely he had been? If he had been claimed and Logan hadn't been Stiles was going to be pissed. Surely, fate couldn't be that cruel.

Fate was that cruel. Not only was Logan not among the people in the clearing, but as soon as they approached the fire a swell of people surged towards them. Apparently Derek coming was a  _big_ deal. And somehow, Stiles had become a celebrity here in the settlement. There were jokes about Derek's hermit status being revoked and even a few girls saying they wouldn't have wasted their time if he'd just told them he didn't swing that way. Stiles laughed at that and Derek looked every bit as uncomfortable as he had with Chloe. Apparently Derek didn't do well with flattery. It seemed like everyone wanted to meet Stiles and comment on how he must be something special for Derek to have claimed him. They were all perfectly polite but by the end of the first hour Stiles was gritting his teeth. He muttered quiet thanks before finally slipping away to where Taylor, Brennan, Aubrey and her mate sat.  
"You look like you need this," Taylor said in greeting, offering him a beer. Stiles glanced around them quickly.  
"I'm not…uh-"  
"You think they're worried about that here?" Taylor questioned, laughing. That was all it took for Stiles to grab the beer and take several gulps in rapid succession. Taylor simply arched a brow at that.  
"Thanks," he managed shakily, offering it to him. Stiles shoved his hands in his back pockets. "So…how are things?"  
"Ah…good," Taylor murmured eventually, "pretty good yeah." Brennan smiled wide enough to show off dimples at that.  
"Hale looks like he's getting skinned alive," Aubrey's mate offered. Stiles glanced behind them and it was true, Derek looked distinctly uncomfortable.  
"You gonna go save him?" Brennan questioned. Stiles turned back to them.  
"Nope." Aubrey's mate chuckled.  
"We haven't officially met," he said, "I'm Chase."  
"Stiles," he returned, offering his hand. Chase shook it before looking behind them again.  
"I guess I'll take mercy on the poor bastard," he let out, shaking his head. He turned to Aubrey, "Want me to bring anything back?"  
"I'm okay," she said softly, a smile that looked forced fitting over her lips.  
"Okay," Chase murmured, clearly hesitating before he left, running a hand through his hair as he did.

Aubrey sighed quietly and glanced to the ground.  
"So how are you and Hale getting along?" Brennan questioned, sipping from a beer as well. Stiles grimaced.  
"Okay I guess. It'd be better if he didn't act like I was a fungus he stepped in." Stiles bit his lips once the words were out, aware that if he wanted Derek could be listening to this conversation.  
"How so?" Stiles sighed.  
"He's just made it perfectly clear that he regrets claiming me and I'm really not sure why he did in the first place. So now we're just stuck with each other and it kinda blows."  
"He say why?" Another sigh.  
"No. Before he even saw me he said he didn't want me."  
"Hm," Brennan let out. "I'm gonna go get some food," he looked to Stiles, "you want some food? Let's go get food." It wasn't exactly subtle but it worked as Taylor snorted and waved them off.  
"Uh. Okay." They walked away from Taylor and Aubrey, passing through several clumps of people on the way to the tables of food.  
"Who do you have waiting for you at home?" Brennan questioned.  
"Hm?" Stiles asked, barely dodging a person as they walked.  
"You left someone behind," Brennan prompted again.  
"My dad," Stiles said slowly. Brennan nodded.  
"Hale probably doesn't want me telling you this," Stiles stole a glance to Derek, who at least wasn't watching them, apparently in conversation with Chase and two other people Stiles couldn't remember the names of. "But if he didn't even see you before he said that then it has nothing to do with you."  
"I'm not following you," Stiles admitted.  
"Some of us are luckier than others," Brennan hedged. "Taylor doesn't really have a family. Just a stepdad and some cousins. You have your father." Stiles squinted at him.  
"You're trying to say Derek doesn't want me because he feels bad for taking me away from my father?"  
"I'm not him," Brennan hedged again; "it's not my place anyways. I'm just telling you it's a possibility. It could just be that Derek doesn't want a mate period, for whatever reason is in his past."  _Laura_. Stiles sighed. "I'm just saying it's a hell of a lot easier to look at Taylor knowing he's not missing anyone."

Stiles glanced to Derek again, relieved that he still wasn't looking at them. Maybe Derek didn't give a fuck where he was. But then again maybe Brennan was right.  
"The lines of communication aren't exactly free flowing," Stiles huffed eventually. Brennan laughed, picking up a plate and moving along the table.  
"Tell me about it. Took me over 48 hours to get 'okay' out of Taylor."  
"If we locked him and Derek in a closet they'd probably both die before uttering a syllable." Brennan laughed again.  
"You could be right." Stiles grabbed everything for s'mores and piled it on a plate. "You helped me out I'm just trying to return the favor."  
"Well thanks," Stiles murmured eventually. "Actually," now or never, "I had some questions."  
"Oh?" Brennan questioned, popping a chip in his mouth.  
"Well this whole…thing happened with Shane," Brennan winced quickly, "and Derek said that he could have challenged Shane to a battle of rights or something? And I was basically just wondering if that was true and really like…what the normal protocol is for the whole thing." Brennan gestured to a couple logs being used as seats and Stiles followed him over.  
"Okay so here's the thing," he said. "Werewolves operate on a different standard obviously. You all have been claimed and marked but it's not permanent. Not yet. At this point there's still danger to the relationship. One of the ways that we guard against that, or mark our territory, is scenting. It's instinctual not logical and you can't talk yourself out of it. The situation with Shane just…well it could have gone a  _lot_ worse. The fact that Derek scared Shane off during the claim only made it worse. To Derek's wolf, Shane was trying to cover you with his scent. Shane was trying to challenge his claim on you. Needless to say, that set him off. He could have killed Shane right in front of you and been well within his rights. Shane knew he was in the wrong, which is why he reported back to the council and why the situation is public knowledge. So to try and answer your question yes Derek could have challenged him and in direct transgressions that generally happens. Scenting is…I'm trying to think of the human equivalent and nothing comes to mind. I guess it would be similar to cheating." Stiles' eyes widened at that.  
"So by taking Shane's hoodie I like… _cheated_  on Derek?" Brennan shrugged one shoulder.  
"But you didn't know Stiles. It's not your fault."  
"But he doesn't even want me," Stiles protested weakly, guilt gnawing at his stomach.  
"If he didn't want you," Brennan glanced back to Taylor, "he'd never have claimed you."

Stiles shoved a marshmallow into his mouth and bit into it viciously.  
"That doesn't make sense," he mumbled.  
"During the mating run instincts are higher and yeah we let our wolves out but we're not totally out of control. Whether Derek acknowledges it or not there is something that he wants out of you." Stiles snuck another glance to Derek and of course now he was looking. Stiles nearly choked on the piece of marshmallow he was trying to swallow.  
"Um, thanks," he mumbled quickly, shooting off his seat and rushing back to Taylor and Aubrey. "Can we go for a walk and like have some human time?" he demanded breathlessly. Taylor glanced to the plate in his hands.  
"You're not gonna make those?" Stiles shook his head jerkily, panic shooting through every nerve ending in his system. He was sure that Derek was going to come over, he probably wouldn't even make excuses before he did, he'd probably just walk away in the middle of a sentence.  
"Sounds good to me," Aubrey said, "let's go." She hooked her arm through Taylor's and pulled him backwards. Stiles set his plate in the grass before following them.  
"Thank god," Stiles let out as they entered the trees, "I just need some time to think."  
"Not yet," Aubrey warned, ahead of him. Unsure what she meant Stiles shut up. They walked for a few minutes before stopping at the bank of a river. In the darkness it was the sound of rushing water that alerted Stiles. "Okay," Aubrey plopped down, "we should be good now if we're quiet." Taylor followed suit, still nursing his beer. Stiles dropped down and ran both hands over his head.  
"This sucks," he let out. Aubrey laughed and he jerked up to look at her.  
"You think you've got it bad?"  
"Yeah," he allowed honestly.  
"At least you can't get pregnant," she said bluntly. Stiles' jaw flapped open.  
"You think you're preguh-" Taylor yelled, cutting off suddenly as Aubrey slapped a hand over his mouth.  
"What about quiet didn't you understand?" she hissed.

"But it's only been like three days," Stiles objected quietly.  
"Yeah," Taylor agreed quietly, "how would you know?"  
"It's only a theory," Aubrey said, taking Taylor's beer before sighing and handing it back. "My hormones are all over the place and it should be just at the right time for me to be ovulating."  
"Maybe you're just like…in shock?"  
"I'm so horny I can barely keep my pants on," she specified. Stiles felt himself blush and Taylor looked away into the darkness. "I know, I know," Aubrey continued, "TMI, trust me I know but it's so fucking hard to keep my hands off him but I have to because if I'm not pregnant I can't get pregnant and I can't be stuck here!" She huffed out a long breath. "Please tell me you guys are having the same issue?"  
"Uh, no," Taylor said after a long moment.  
"Not even a little bit," Stiles allowed softly.  
"Awesome." Stiles couldn't think of anything to say. Derek certainly didn't seem so bad now. What could he say really?  _At least your mate wants you?_ "I hate my life," Aubrey sighed after another moment. "I mean Chase is great, kind of perfect actually, but I can't be here- I just can't." She blew out a sigh and ran her hands through her hair rapidly. "I mean I might not be pregnant, it's way too early to tell but I just…have this  _feeling_." She brought her knees towards her chest before tucking her face into the space created. "I can't be pregnant," she sighed again.  
"When are you going to tell Chase?" Taylor questioned. Aubrey groaned. There was a long silence that Stiles was loath to try and fill.  
"If I miss my period," she finally said, "then I'll tell him."  
"Well this entire situation is just depressing," Stiles exhaled. Aubrey laughed softly.  
"Yeah thanks captain obvious."  
"Any time."  
"Better back off Stiles. If she's pregnant she can't control her emotions." Aubrey gasped before her hand swung out, Taylor dodging easily enough.  
"That's not funny," she exhaled, clearly trying not to laugh.  
"Sure it isn't," Taylor answered, looping his arm over her shoulders. Aubrey sighed again and for several minutes they all sat in silence.  
"I go to sleep every night hoping this is all some sort of nightmare. And then I feel terrible in the morning when I'm relieved that it isn't."  
"This isn't what my nightmares look like," Taylor said, drinking from his beer again.

There was a beat of perfect silence and then as if Taylor realized he'd said something he hadn't meant to he drew away from Aubrey and stood.  
"I'm gonna head back."  
"I'll come with you," Aubrey offered. Taylor shook his head.  
"Nah I'm just…gonna find Bren." He left, branches breaking quietly underfoot, leaving Aubrey and Stiles awkwardly sharing the same space. Aubrey huffed out an irritated breath,  
"I feel like I'm always doing or saying the wrong thing here! I just want to go home."  
"Tell me about it," Stiles grunted. "Living with Derek is like walking across a minefield but there's no explosion to let you know when you've actually stepped on something."  
"You don't have to deal with Genevieve."  
"Who's Genevieve?" Aubrey sighed again.  
"She's a stuck up bitch who thought Chase was going to claim her. Well he didn't and now she's made it her mission to make me want to jump off a cliff. If she wasn't a werewolf…" she trailed off and sighed again. "I don't mean to be this negative I swear. Although it's actually kind of nice to not have to put on a happy face right now."  
"It is nice," Stiles agreed. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, muscles leaking tension until his body sagged down. "I just want to go home. Derek wants me to go home. Waiting sucks."  
"Think of it as a free vacation?" Stiles let out a quick laugh. "That's what I'm trying to do. Even though I'm half out of my mind worrying."  
"Worrying?"  
"My baby brother Cody. My dad works two jobs and he tries he really does but my mom is worthless and I usually take care of him. Now I'm not there."  
"I'm sorry," Stiles offered. He really couldn't think of anything else to say. Aubrey shrugged and Stiles barely caught the motion. The forest seemed to be getting even darker than it had been.  
"Free vacation right?" A sudden snarl broke into the conversation, so loud that Stiles flinched and looked around desperately. Aubrey was on her feet when he looked back and Stiles stumbled to follow suit.  
"Did that come from the clearing?" he questioned.  
"I think so, we'd better head back." Stiles thought they should head in the other direction but followed her anyways. No way was he letting a possibly pregnant girl wander into a werewolf fight on her own.

There were several more snarls and growls, maybe even a few whimpers but by the time they made it close enough to the fire to see the fight had apparently ended. Chase's hands were balled in fists by his sides, shoulders tensed and chest heaving. His hair looked like it had just been shoved off his face, maybe it had been. Stiles barely recognized Aiden across from him, cheek and shoulder bleeding.  
"What happened?" Aubrey demanded, voice cutting through the wolves gathered. Aiden ducked his head and Chase relaxed instantly.  
"Nothing, we're fine."  
"Don't try and sell me that line of shit Chase."  
"We're fine," Chase said, crossing to Aubrey and catching her by the shoulders, "tempers flared we had a little fight but now we're fine."  
"Why are you fighting your friends?" she demanded. Stiles didn't hear Chase's reply because he was suddenly engulfed by Derek's chest.  
"Oompf," Stiles let out, "hi?"  
"You're okay?" Derek demanded, "I couldn't find you."  
"Can't you like…track me by scent or something?" Derek pulled back enough for Stiles to see his wry smile.  
"There's a lot of scents here cupcake." Stiles pulled a face.  
" _Cupcake_ again?"  
"It suits you," Derek said, pinching his hip quickly, "you're soft." Stiles scowled at that.  
"Gee thanks."  
"I made your s'mores," Derek admitted after a moment, hands finally dropping away. That shouldn't have perked Stiles up but it did.  
"Really?"  
"I might have burned them," Derek added.  
"There is no other way to make s'mores," Stiles told him. "Where are they?" He followed Derek to a few logs closer to the fire and Derek presented him with a plate of undoubtedly sloppy s'mores.

Stiles plopped down before picking up one of them and examining the white cracks in the charred exterior of the marshmallow. He hummed happily to himself, every single problem momentarily forgotten, before taking a bite. "Oh my god," he let out, "oh my god. This is amazing." He didn't even care that his mouth was full of food or that Derek was smirking at him. "No seriously," Stiles insisted, taking another bite and swirling his tongue through the charred and gooey marshmallow, "did you taste this?" he mumbled around the food. "Have you had some because here," he shoved the half eaten s'more in the direction of Derek's face before groaning again. Derek finally caught his hand, which Stiles wasn't aware had been moving, and took a bite, lips brushing the tips of Stiles' middle and ring finger. Heat shot over Stiles and he stilled suddenly, watching as Derek licked his lips and smiled, actually  _smiled_.  
"It is pretty good." Stiles swallowed thickly before nodding.  
"Thirsty," he mumbled, abandoning the s'more on the plate and rushing towards the table with cups lined up on it. He shot a glance back to Derek as he reached it, finding the wolf watching him. Of course, Brennan's words came back to play in his head.  _Whether Derek acknowledges it or not there is something that he wants out of you._


	7. When We were Wired

Stiles downed two cups of punch and filled another for Derek before attempting a return. His face was flushed and he could feel his pulse racing along underneath his skin. His heart didn't seem to care that Derek could hear every single palpitation if he wanted.  _This is stupid_ a voice inside murmured  _this is just really stupid._ So Derek's wolf was at least partly attracted to him. Woo hoo. So maybe when Stiles wasn't forcing his mind in the right direction he was attracted to Derek.  _Don't think about him naked_ was rapidly followed by  _don't think about the sex_ and  _dear god_. He took another gulp of punch, picking up the next s'more and feeling slightly queasy. Before he had to worry about actually trying to eat it it was snatched out of his hand, Shane laughing as he shoved the entire thing in his mouth. Stiles was too happy to be angry, smiling up at the towering wolf.  
"Shane you're here," he exhaled, looking to Derek for just a moment. Derek's expression was totally unreadable other than the fact that he wasn't glaring. Stiles figured that meant that this was okay.  
"Still in one piece and everything," Shane teased, plopping down on the other side of Derek.  
"The restraint?" Stiles questioned slowly.  
"Released early for good behavior," Shane returned easily. Stiles still wasn't sure exactly what the restraint had done and he peered at Shane's wrist, just in time for Shane to duck it out of view. Stiles scowled at him, tossing a s'more when Shane only laughed.  
"I'm not making you anymore if you're going to throw them," Derek announced, crossing his arms. Stiles stuck out his tongue before being struck by the sheer absurdity of it. They were all sitting here together, laughing and playing as if they were…friends. As if Derek hadn't threatened Shane's death just the other day. He was suddenly eager to know what Derek had said when he and Shane had been alone. Maybe it didn't really matter either way. Maybe all that mattered was that they were actually all getting along now.  
"I'd better go make my rounds," Shane murmured, "I'll catch you guys later." Stiles offered a half wave and Derek even nodded in acknowledgement. Stiles watched as Shane left before looking to Derek again.  
"Thank you," he exhaled. Derek's eyebrows rose in surprise.  
"What are you thanking me for?"  
"Well," Stiles hedged, suddenly and ridiculously nervous. This was just  _Derek_  no big deal. Who was he trying to impress anyways? "The s'mores," he offered with a grin, "and," he added, voice dropping, "Shane."  
"I overreacted," Derek said eventually, "I did my best to correct it."  
"Thank you," Stiles repeated seriously.

There were a lot of things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Derek he was sorry for taking the sweatshirt, even though he hadn't known what it meant. He wanted to apologize for not asking what was happening and instead just jumping to the conclusion that Derek was being a jerk. But he didn't say any of that because they were surrounded by people. Stiles had never really been great with an audience anyways. His eyes drifted over the people sitting around the fire, spotting Taylor and Brennan across from them. They were sharing a log and Brennan made it look completely natural to have both arms wrapped around Taylor as they sat together. Stiles was surprised to feel a wave of jealousy. He diverted his eyes but there were couples all over the clearing. Taylor and Brennan were only the beginning. Aubrey and Chase and people Stiles had met and people he hadn't. Everyone was talking and having a good time and cuddling and hugging and kissing and he and Derek just…were. He was suddenly uncomfortable. Derek forgiving Shane didn't seem enough. Stiles mind kicked into overdrive and then all the attention paid to him before seemed…too much. Maybe the few flat looks had actually been pity. Maybe they all knew that the entire claiming had gone downhill and maybe they all felt bad for him. Maybe they all felt bad for Derek. And why shouldn't they? No one wanted Stiles. No one had ever wanted Stiles. It had been strange coming here and forgetting that. Strange worrying about being wanted when he'd never had to worry about that before, only worrying about  _not_ being wanted. Like he always was. Invisible. The butt of a joke. He could get a laugh sometimes, on a good day. But at the end of that day he still was what he was. Unwanted. Not capable of being wanted. His teeth sunk into his lip. He was doing it again. Emotions flaring and spinning inside him until he felt sick. Usually he was so much better at ignoring unfortunate things. He was so much better at finding something to distract himself. But here there was nothing. And how pathetic was it that he needed distractions anyways? Why couldn't he just be stronger? Stiles nearly groaned at that. This was only getting worse. With his luck it would bloom into a full scale panic attack. If people didn't feel bad for him now they would then.  
"What's wrong?" Stiles looked to Derek, biting his lip again. He was that transparent, of course.  
"I'm not feeling well." At least it wasn't a lie.  
"Did I make them okay?" Derek asked, sounding so concerned that he had actually messed up making s'mores that Stiles nearly laughed.  
"They were amazing I just…feel sick."  _At least I don't have to worry about being pregnant_ he realized. He nearly laughed again, feeling on the verge of a breakdown that precise second. "Can I go back to the house?" He wasn't sure why he asked instead of just saying he was and for a moment it distracted him.

"Of course," Derek said, standing, "we'll go." Stiles pushed to his feet too, shaking his head.  
"No stay-please. I'm just going to go to bed there's no reason for you to come." His voice was too high and he knew it but the last thing he needed was to cry in front of Derek again. He was pathetic enough as it was. The thought was like a physical blow and Stiles sucked in a breath and held it tight.  
"Are you sure?" Derek questioned softly, lips twisting in a frown. Stiles nodded quickly, too quickly.  
"Absolutely." Was he the only one that heard the desperation in his voice? He didn't want for Derek's response, all but running from the fire and all the gathered wolves. He began mumbling to himself as soon as he was reasonably sure he was out of earshot. It mostly consisted of  _stop it_ and  _stupid_  with a few curses and kicks at the dirt. Stiles hated when he got like this. When he had these  _moods_. He couldn't get out of his head and the only thoughts that kept circling in his head were malicious and it went on and on until he found a distraction. But too soon he was standing in front of Derek's house and there were no distractions to be found anywhere. He already knew pretty much every inch of the house instead of the garage and he had a feeling if he went snooping in there he'd be crossing several lines, especially when he'd claimed to be sick. Maybe it was the whirlwind in his mind but Stiles couldn't make himself go into the darkened house. He walked around it instead, cutting past the houses and towards the dark trees. It was stupid. Stiles knew it was stupid. But he was worthless and pathetic and why the hell shouldn't he go wandering around? He walked until he could hardly see in front of his face and it only then occurred to him to wonder how Aubrey had found her way so easily to the river. She must have already known it was there. Somehow? Stiles shook his head and kept going. When he stumbled over a branch he picked it up and began striking at trees as he walked. For a while it worked and his anger sparked out of him instead of twisting around and rebounding under his skin. But then he hit a tree hard enough to break the stick and it only, irrationally, fueled his anger past the breaking point. He stopped right where he was, fists curling tight at his sides as his eyes closed and he worked to just breathe. He wanted so badly to just scream. He wanted to scream and scream until there was nothing left and he could just be numb. What a lovely thing it would be to just not feel  _this_.

"What are you doing?" Derek's voice demanded from the darkness. It was like a bucket of cold water. Worse maybe. Derek's fury was vibrating in every syllable.  
"I j-just needed to-" he stumbled over the words trying to keep his chest from splitting wide open.  _I needed to blow off some steam. I needed to think. I just needed to be alone._ He should say something like that. He should say anything like that. But the words didn't come and so he just shrugged a shoulder.  
"You weren't at the house," Derek continued, voice rising. "You told me you were going to the house. You told me you didn't feel well."  
"I didn't," Stiles tried, he did, "I was going to but I-"  
"But you what?" Derek yelled, the words breaking through the space between them and Stiles flinched even though he couldn't even see Derek. "You just decided to go wandering around on your own? Were you even thinking or are you just that stupid?" He flinched further under the onslaught, chin ducking into his neck. Stiles wished he could disappear. For just a moment he considered running but that would only make it worse. His feet stayed planted and maybe he _couldn't_  run. Maybe it didn't matter either way. "I can't believe you," Derek continued, "I can't believe  _me_! To actually claim not just a human but  _you_  when you are so obviously incapable of even  _thinking_. God I knew you were goofy and annoying and I thought that I could deal with it but obviously I was wrong." Stiles didn't flinch again. He remained perfectly still. This was not new information. He knew all of this. Logically, a tiny voice just behind his ear told him so, it should not hurt this much. He felt it then. He felt it as his worst fears were in fact confirmed. Something broke in his chest, just off center. Snapping smooth and clean. He tilted his head to the left, just slightly, trying to look in the direction Derek's voice was coming from.  
"Are you done?" he managed, proud of how steady his voice was. The silence was sudden and sharp. Apparently he'd surprised Derek too.  
"I-"  
"Not that it's not fascinating," Stiles cut him off, too terrified of what he was going to say, "watching you throw this hissy fit. But I've heard it all before. And as I recall I didn't want claimed. The way it plays back in my head you tore my clothes off and forced yourself on me." The tiny voice behind his ear was making itself known again, reminding Stiles that that wasn't really how it went. He didn't care. "I guess they don't offer 'no means no' classes in werewolf school huh?" He took a small step forward. "But you were in there too weren't you," he couldn't quite make it a question, "so sorry that I'm  _goofy_ and  _annoying_ really deepest regrets here bro but you made your bed and now I have to lie in it so basically fuck you Derek."

He wasn't angry. Stiles didn't know what he was. Hurt he supposed. Yes. He was hurt. He knew Derek didn't want him. It was obvious. But Brennan had said… Well he hadn't really said much of anything but it had been enough. And Derek had been watching him. He'd made him fucking s'mores.  _Goddamn marshmallows_ Stiles thought viciously. And for about two seconds it seemed like things were actually not horrible and now well you could only escape the harsh realities of life for so long.  
"I shouldn't have-" Derek began again.  
"Just stop," Stiles snapped. "Just stop trying. You don't like me. You don't want me. Message received."  
"I couldn't find you," Derek said rapidly and it  _almost_ sounded like the beginning of some weird hybrid of an apology and an explanation.  
"Yes it would be a real tragedy if you lost me," Stiles agreed, dripping sarcasm.  
"We were all packed too close together," Derek continued, quieter, still forcing the words out quickly. "It was hard to track your scent."  
"Oh my god you are trying to apologize," Stiles uttered, slapping a hand to his forehead.  
"I shouldn't have said-" Derek tried after a tense moment.  
" _I'm_  annoying? Why are you still talking?" Stiles snapped, hand falling away. Derek growled and Stiles wondered if Derek would actually hurt him. Wasn't that against the mating guidelines?  
"I didn't mean to yell at you," Derek said stiffly.  
"Fantastic let's have sex," Stiles suggested, "oh wait I forgot about the me being repulsive to you bit."  _Danger, danger_ his mind warned. His tongue was getting away from him and they were definitely about to head into unwanted territory. "You really need to pick a side here."  
"I feel the urge to protect you," Derek breathed, suddenly closer.  
"Ironic," Stiles snipped, shifting backwards. Derek finally stepped into view and Stiles could at least make out the shape of him. It wasn't a relief. Derek pulled him closer by the arm and Stiles' reaction surprised him. His entire body went rigid and he shoved at Derek's chest. "What the  _fuck_ are you doing  _get off me_!" The words were out so fast they left him breathless and he was panting for air as Derek jerked backwards, into the blackness once again. Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and looked down, trying desperately to catch his breath.  
"It's late."

Stiles followed Derek back, suspecting that Derek was purposely moving loud enough for Stiles to hear. His mind had finally quieted and he supposed getting his heart ripped out of his chest and put on a pike was enough of a distraction. Unwanted. Even the brand of the word didn't seem so bad now. He was okay. For now. Derek didn't say anything else and Stiles was glad because he was tired of talking. He just wanted to sleep. Maybe things would be better in the morning. His feet were heavy as he climbed the stairs and simply moving to the bathroom rather than the bed seemed painful. As much as Stiles wanted to scrub the ash and scent of smoke from his body it would have to wait. Sleep was his priority. Not to mention being anywhere but the bedroom risked running into Derek. Stiles winced. He was mostly sure that when the words actually sunk in Stiles was going to lose it again. Sure Derek had already tried to take it back but that was only regret and guilt creeping in. Stiles didn't even understand it. He was in a settlement, a  _fenced in_ settlement, and he couldn't even have made it a quarter of a mile into the woods. How could something have even happened? And it wasn't like he purposely deceived Derek, not that Derek knew that anyways. He tossed himself down on the bed with a sigh before kicking his shoes off and lying back again. Regardless they'd had their fight and Derek let out how he actually felt. Stiles wondered if Derek felt any better. That drew a quick snort. Why the hell was he worried about how Derek was feeling?

This was all Derek's fault. Derek never had to claim him. It was  _his_ decision. Jesus. He wondered yet again why Derek had done it. Tired of being lonely? Stiles looked like easy prey and he'd gotten off on the submission? That didn't seem right. Derek had been careful of him. Stiles' eyes closed and he threw a hand over them for good measure as his cheeks heated. He'd been more than careful of him really. Stiles just didn't understand it. Even the jealousy seemed to have abated. It was almost as if the entire Shane situation had never even happened. Derek had already taken the restraint off and he'd even said he'd overreacted. Was it even about Stiles? His hand, which had been tugging a piece of sheet back and forth, froze. He thought back to Derek and Shane at the diner. Shane sitting down next to Derek at the fire. Derek had been perfectly okay then. Maybe something had happened after Stiles left. Maybe if Shane hadn't been with Stiles in the woods Derek never would have claimed him. Derek only claimed him to stop Shane from doing so, it was Stiles' best theory at this point. But maybe it wasn't because Derek had wanted Stiles. Maybe it was because Derek couldn't stand the thought of  _Shane_ with anyone else. Stiles paused, softening unexpectedly. Maybe they had a past. Maybe Shane's affection towards Stiles was because he was Derek's mate. Of course, there was no evidence of it. No one had said anything about it. But they wouldn't would they? Still, Stiles liked this theory. This theory made sense. Finally, something made sense.

Stiles jerked awake when the door slapped open, pulling himself into a sitting position and squinting into the darkness. He more knew it was Derek than saw him, tongue tangling in his teeth as Derek stepped into the room and got in the bed, pulling Stiles to him. His hand moved over Stiles' chest quickly and if not for the heat transferring from his skin to Stiles' he would think it was a dream. A very strange dream. Derek laid his palm flat over Stiles' heart, wrapping his other arm around Stiles' back and drawing him close. Silence fell slowly, Derek apparently catching his breath as he managed to stop panting. Stiles wanted to ask what was happening and he also wanted to ask Derek to take his hand out of his shirt but talking…didn't seem like a good idea. It was still dark out but Stiles was fully awake now and he had no clue of what time it was.  
"I'm okay," Stiles finally risked, even the whispered words feeling like too much in the silence. Derek didn't react for a long time. Finally his hand slid from Stiles' chest, the arm around his back loosening in the next second. He climbed from the bed stiffly.  
"I'm going to work," Derek said carefully, "do you need me to bring anything back?" Stiles shook his head.  
"You're leaving now?" Derek looked away before moving to the door.  
"It's a long drive."  
"Wait," his brain was still sleep heavy so maybe he wasn't thinking right, maybe he shouldn't be talking at all, "are you okay?"  
"I'm fine," he said quickly, "don't worry about me." He paused in the doorway.  
"What is it?" Stiles pressed when he didn't say anything.  
"I'm sorry I touched you. It's hard to control sometimes. I'll try to do better." For a moment it felt like Derek was apologizing for the wrong thing but Stiles reminded himself that Derek couldn't apologize for not wanting him.  
"Oh." Stiles knew that wasn't the thing to say but he couldn't get his head wrapped around much of anything right now. Derek was gone before he'd figured it out.

Stiles went back to sleep but it was restless and he ended up pushing out of bed as the sky was brightening from pink to yellow with the sun. He went to the bathroom and got in the shower, standing under the hot spray for a long time before he actually moved to wash. He wandered downstairs in boxers, not bothering with the rest of his clothes. Derek was gone. Why bother? He grabbed a pack of Pop-Tarts before wandering back upstairs and sitting on the bed. All of a sudden he had an entire day by himself. Hours and hours stretched out in front of him. Stiles couldn't spend it as he normally would, reading or spending time online. He blew out a sigh and brushed crumbs off his lap. Of course if he went to the diner there'd be plenty to read. But then again he wasn't sure that was a good idea. Why couldn't he just go to sleep until it was time to go home? A knock from downstairs distracted Stiles from his pity party and he stumbled into jeans and a t-shirt before hurrying down the stairs.  
"Aiden?" he questioned, pulling open the door to reveal the young wolf. Aiden smiled.  
"Hey Stiles. Wondered if you wanted to hang out?"  
"Uh… Sure." Definitely an interesting turn of events but it wasn't like Stiles had anything to do. "Let me just…I'll be right back." He closed the door gently and rushed back up the stairs, yanking on socks and shoving his feet in his shoes before pausing at the side of the bed. The last thing he needed was another thing for Derek to yell at him about. He went back to the dresser and went through the drawers until he found one of Derek's shirts, slipping it over his own. Aiden's nostrils flared when he returned and he nodded once.  
"Good idea. But I thought you and Derek had sorted that," he let the sentence trail as a question, giving Stiles the option of whether he wanted to answer. Stiles shrugged.  
"Don't really want to talk about it." He didn't. Even though he could ask Aiden how long the scenting lasted and if he still smelled enough like Derek. He just didn't want to even broach the subject of Derek.  
"No problem," Aiden agreed, "mates are officially off the discussion board. But my dad thought maybe you would like a tour."  
"Your dad?" Aiden laughed quickly.  
"Aiden Ramsey," he said, offering his hand. Stiles shook it, smiling as well. He supposed if he couldn't trust Aiden he couldn't trust anyone.  
"Nice to meet you."

Aiden guided him back out of the houses, which were divided into four quarters for organizational purposes. The clearing was to the west of all the houses, the main gates several miles to the east. But in the center of the settlement, that was where the fun stuff was. The main building Stiles had first been put in, sort of like their city hall. Stiles learned that they only really used the infirmary for humans, as werewolves very rarely needed it. The diner was on the other side of the dirt street from it and Stiles tried to avoid looking at that. If he and Aiden were talking about Derek he could pose his theory. But they weren't. Part of Stiles didn't really want to know anyways. More specifically he didn't want to know if he was wrong. Next to city hall, because Stiles didn't really have anything else to call it, was a library. Stiles grinned at that, setting off even as Aiden tried to explain about the call center they also had, tucked closer to the main gates. Sure he wondered why the hell a werewolf settlement had a call center but a library now that was important.  
"Apparently I said the magic word," Aiden laughed, stepping ahead of Stiles and pulling the door open for him.  
"I love books," Stiles admitted. He  _loved_ the internet but hey books were a close second and beggars couldn't be choosers. Lights flicked on, apparently motion activated, and then it was just Aiden, Stiles, and stack after stack after stack of books. "This is fantastic," he exhaled, feet already moving.  
"You can take whatever you want, so long as you look after them." Glancing around again Stile saw the wisdom in that, there were no couches or tables it didn't even look like there was a desk, every possible inch was used for the bookshelves. Even the walkways between were narrow. Not that Stiles minded. If it was a public library it might be a problem but here the books were more important than the space. The more books there were the better.  
"I can't believe you guys have a library," he admitted. Aiden laughed again.  
"We're not heathens. Education is important and Mrs. Wells only gets you so far."  
"Hm," Stiles managed noncommittally, fingers drifting along spines. Aiden chuckled but then fell silent, letting Stiles wander.

In the end it was a good thing Aiden was with him. He could carry three times as many books as Stiles could. Which meant Stiles wouldn't have to come back to the library for about two days. Maybe three. They stacked them all against the wall in the living room and Stiles set his hands on his hips as he smiled down at them.  
"Diner for lunch?" Aiden offered.  
"Nah, I'll make something here," Stiles replied, trying to pick which book to read first.  
"You shouldn't eat while reading," Aiden warned, amused.  
"Pop-Tarts don't drip," Stiles scoffed.  
"You're a trip," Aiden told him. Stiles wondered why everyone seemed to like him except Derek as he stepped forward for a book. "I'll be at the diner if you change your mind," Aiden offered finally.  
"Okay," Stiles agreed, relieved when the door finally closed behind him. He moved back to the futon, which Derek hadn't even bothered to put back up before he left, and sat down before sprawling in a more comfortable position. He kicked his shoes off and cracked open the book, sighing in relief. Distraction. Actual distraction. Little black words printed on cream page. Yes. This was what he needed. It was dark and Stiles was well into his third book before Derek arrived home. Stiles didn't look up from what he was reading, offering a small wave instead.  
"Did you eat?" Derek questioned. Stiles stomach growled so loudly he heard it  _and_ felt it. He sat up, one hand still splayed on the book.  
"I meant to," he admitted, finally looking to Derek. Derek crossed the room, a brown paper bag in front of him.  
"Here." He set the bag down next to Stiles, freezing suddenly. His eyes slid over Stiles slowly. "That's my shirt."  
"Um, yeah." Why was he blushing? Derek straightened slowly.  
"So Shane told you about the library."  
"No Aiden did."  
"Aiden?" Derek demanded, frowning.  
"Yeah. I haven't seen Shane."  
"Oh." Stiles sat up and gathered both the book and the bag of food, careful to hold his spot. "Why?" Stiles paused before answering.

"I don't try to piss you off. As much as that might surprise you." Derek didn't respond. "If me seeing Shane is going to be a problem then I'm not going to do it."  
"It won't be a problem."  
"Really? Because every time Shane and I have been together you and I have fought." Derek shook his head.  
"Last night wasn't about that. I don't want you in the woods by yourself." Stiles frowned at him.  
"Why not?" Derek's frown deepened and he stared at Stiles for a long moment. "Will you please just talk to me?" Stiles demanded. "Maybe things wouldn't be so bad if we just  _talked_."  
"You're never as safe as you think you are, alright?" Derek snapped.  
"You were actually worried about me?" Stiles shot back, too shocked to end the conversation there. Derek sighed and shrugged out of his jacket before hanging it on the last banister. He moved to the futon and sat down next to Stiles.  
"Yes I was worried about you. You're my mate and it's my job to protect you." For a moment Stiles was struck by the unreality of it. They were actually talking. About them.  
"But we're not really… I mean you don't actually want me so I guess I don't understand."  
"It's not the same thing," Derek said after a moment, "I'm responsible for you."  
"Okay but you left me alone all day." Derek nodded.  
"I overreacted last night. You weren't here and I panicked." Stiles sighed and gritted his teeth for a moment.  
"I don't understand you. You claim me and then say you don't want me. You get jealous when you don't want me then you say it wasn't a big deal. And it seems like your excuse for everything is 'I overreacted.'"  
"I've never done this before," Derek admitted haltingly. "I've never had a mate. Everything is…harder to control." Stiles was surprised by that information. He'd thought… Well Laura for one. And he supposed that Shane and Derek could have been together without ever claiming but that seemed pretty ridiculous now.  
"So then why did you claim me? You can't stand me." Derek didn't answer; he wouldn't even look at Stiles. "Was it about Shane? Somehow? Because I honestly don't understand if you didn't want me why you did it."  _I don't understand. I don't understand._ Maybe if he said it enough Derek would actually explain.  
"I did want you."

Stiles' jaw fell open. Had he imagined that? He must have. Right? "It was one of the most selfish things I've ever done." Stiles' mind was too busy spinning for him to try and formulate a response. Derek wanted him? Brennan was right? This changed everything. This made no sense whatsoever. What was happening?  
"I don't understand," Stiles managed once again.  
"There are reasons I'm alone," Derek said, finally looking at him. Stiles stared at him, words failing him completely. "You should understand that at least. You should hate me."  
"Why?" Stiles questioned, frowning.  
"I raped you." Stiles' eyes widened as guilt flushed through him. "And now you can't go home."  
"Okay you didn't-I shouldn't have said that. I was mad. You were yelling at me and this has all been so fucking confusing but you didn't rape me."  
"You don't have to try and make me feel better." Derek laughed harshly. "Why are you so…kind?"  
"I'm not-" Stiles spluttered, sure he was being insulted.  
"It's not a bad thing," Derek cut him off. "But you're exactly the opposite of me in so many ways."  
"Just because I cook my bacon," Stiles joked weakly.  
"You're not going to let that go are you?"  
"It's disgusting," Stiles informed him. Derek chuckled and shook his head and Stiles took a deep breath.

"So just to recap," he let out, trying to ignore the tremor that was working its way up his leg, "you did want me but you don't want a mate. It has nothing to do with me and so long as we set some ground rules we'll be fine? I don't see why we can't just…get along as…friends? For the rest of the time."  
"For the most part," Derek said, eyes measuring Stiles.  
"Do you always have to go for the mysterious response?" Stiles huffed, letting his lips curl slightly so Derek would know he was mostly kidding.  
"You have sex with your friends?" Derek questioned bluntly. Stiles felt himself flush as his jaw dropped again.  
"What? No. Of course not."  
"Well we can try but…the full moon is a call to mate. Every month."  
"Oh," Stiles let out, fingertips going numb. "We'll figure it out," he nodded as he said it, as if that made up for the total lack of confidence in the words.  
"It'll be easier knowing I actually want to have sex with you won't it?" Derek questioned dryly. Stiles flushed deeper.  
"Point taken," he returned, looking away. "Still, we should have had this conversation earlier." Derek sighed.  
"What good does it do?"  
"It makes me feel better for one. And it's teaching you that sharing is caring. You can't just keep everything locked up behind that sour wolf face."  
"You are so dysfunctional," Derek shot back.  
" _We_ are dysfunctional," Stiles corrected. Derek didn't disagree.


	8. The World was Like a Secret

Stiles groaned and brought a hand over his face. He fell asleep again. His body rocked gently as Derek carried him over all sorts of plants and roots Stiles was no longer able to see.  
"You probably shouldn't stay up so late reading," Derek offered, ducking his head, a quick exhale sliding over Stiles' cheek. Stiles worked not to shiver.  
"Not my fault," he argued, "Anna Karenina is a classic."  
"Doesn't she throw herself in front of a train?" Derek questioned.  
"No," Stiles squawked, "what? How do you know that?"  
"It's one of my father's favorites."  
"Well I haven't finished it yet," Stiles let out after an awkward silence.  
"How many books are you reading right now anyways?"  
"Um…" Stiles tried to tally in his head, "six? I feel like I'm forgetting one." Derek chuckled, vibrating Stiles' ribs. Stiles nearly shivered again. Derek reached the edge of the trees and set him on his feet before offering the Sherlock Holmes novel he'd been reading. It had been a week and every day Derek didn't have to work they went out to the woods to look. They'd both discovered rather quickly that Stiles wasn't very adept at searching. So now he brought books and read aloud. Only he hadn't meant to fall asleep. The first time he hadn't woken up until he was already tucked in bed. Now  _that_ had been awkward.

He sighed and scratched at the back of his neck as he followed along behind Derek. "Maybe it's about time to call it?"  
"Hm?"  
"Just…we haven't found it yet," Stiles added, frowning. "Maybe we won't."  
"We can go out some more," Derek held the door for him, "it's not like we have anything better to do."  
"Okay," Stiles agreed softly, "thanks." He yawned deeply at the base of the stairs before moving towards them. "Well goodnight," he offered.  
"You're not going to read anymore?" Derek questioned. Stiles paused on the second step.  
"Not tonight."  
"Fine," Derek agreed, pulling the book from his hand.  
"Hey," Stiles protested, eyes widening.  
"What? He was just about to reveal who did it. I wanna know."  
"Well you're gonna read it without me?" Stiles demanded.  
"You're going to bed," Derek tossed over his shoulder, crossing to the futon and kicking off his shoes.  
"Not cool," Stiles turned and followed him. Derek arched an eyebrow as Stiles plopped down next to him before splaying out, one leg falling behind Derek and one threading into his lap. "Okay," he said, closing his eyes, "now you read to me."  
"Comfortable?" Derek questioned.  
"Yup."  
"I'm glad," Derek exhaled dryly. Stiles just smiled as he cracked open the book.

It was the fourth time they slept together, two had been for scenting purposes. Unlike all the others though Derek was still tangled up with him when Stiles woke up.  
"Mm Saturday good," Stiles let out before snuggling back into Derek. Derek's arm shifted slightly before curling around him again and Stiles felt himself smile. He laid half asleep for a long time. Eventually his body forced him from bed and Stiles was surprised to see Derek still on the futon when he returned from the bathroom. He smiled and shook his head slightly. Stiles' stomach grumbled next and he moved for the door as he stifled a small yawn. He wandered down the dirt street in his bare feet, stretching out his arms as he walked.  
"Stiles," Shane greeted easily as he stepped in, "you gonna stop avoiding me now?" Stiles stuck out his tongue quickly.  
"Haven't been avoiding you. Been reading." Shane laughed at him quickly.  
"Good to know I guess." He set his hands on his hips. "So what can I get you?"  
"Mm, pancakes," Stiles said, settling on a stool and leaning on the counter, "and bacon."  
"Coming right up."  
"Oh," Stiles remembered suddenly, "to go."  
"Two orders?" Shane questioned next.  
"Mmhmm."  
"Alright little man," Shane agreed, chuckling. Stiles smiled to himself and closed his eyes. It wasn't very long before Shane set down two takeout boxes in front of him.  
"There you go. I'd better see you again soon."  
"I'll see what I can do," Stiles teased, sticking out his tongue again.  
"Uh huh," Shane smiled again, shaking his head. "Get outta here." Stiles saluted before gathering the boxes and making his way back to Derek's house.

"I know you're awake," Stiles told Derek just inside the door. "There is no way I'm up before you." Derek didn't move, though his lips curled just slightly. "I brought breakfast," he said as he crossed into the kitchen. "Properly cooked bacon." The first box revealed bacon and little containers of syrup and butter. Stiles grabbed two strips of bacon, biting into one as he looked back to Derek. "Seriously?" he questioned, chewing. He wandered forward, dangling the other strip of bacon over Derek's nose. Derek moved too fast, biting into the bacon and pulling it from Stiles' hand before sitting up. Stiles rolled his eyes. "You're not funny," he told him, willing his heart to slow back down.  
"Maybe I just didn't feel like getting up," Derek murmured.  
"Since when?" Derek shrugged.  
"I was comfortable."  
"Well you can get comfortable in the kitchen." Derek followed him eventually, lifting an eyebrow at Stiles dipping chunks of pancake in syrup. "I know you are not judging me raw bacon." Derek just shook his head.  
"You're ridiculous." He pulled himself onto the counter and grabbed a pancake before biting into it. Stiles moved to the opposite wall, leaning against it. "So what do you want to do today?" Derek questioned, tongue flicking over his lips.  
"Mmm…don't know," Stiles admitted, "I guess I shouldn't spend another day curled up reading."  
"Why not?"  
"I'm going to get fat," Stiles announced with a fake pout, pushing out his stomach and looking down to it.  
"What you want to work out?"  
"With a werewolf?" Stiles questioned, eyes widening even as he frowned. "Yeah that will be a confidence builder," he said dryly. Derek smirked.  
"I'll go easy on you."

Stiles collapsed in an open patch of grass, tossing a hand over his eyes and panting.  
"I hate you," he complained. Derek just laughed at him.  
"Rest for three minutes and then we're going again."  
"You realize this is like…three lacrosse practices right?"  
"You play lacrosse?" Derek questioned then. Stiles groaned.  
"Sort of," he admitted, squinting up at the werewolf. "I'm mostly a benchwarmer."  
"So you  _don't_ play lacrosse."  
"Hey I'm on the team," Stiles huffed.  
"But not first string." Stiles rolled his eyes and groaned again. He sat up before hissing out a breath and realizing that was a bad idea.  
"First  _line_  and no…I'm not." He drew the line at admitting he was pretty much the joke of the team. At least Scott had asthma to defend him.  
"You wanna be?" Stiles shrugged.  
"It'd be nice to not be a total screw up," he admitted, half to himself.  
"Alright. Get up then."

It was scary how easy they fell into routine. When Derek was gone Stiles read. When Derek was there they ate, worked out, or Stiles read again. Once in a blue moon Derek would read but Stiles tried not to think too much about that. His voice could be entirely too pleasant. Another week and a half passed with little change. Stiles saw Taylor and Shane, even Brennan once or twice. But mostly it was Derek. Stiles probably should have minded that more than he did but…he and Derek were friends now. At least, he thought they were. It seemed like they were. Derek didn't really glare at him anymore. If he did it was broken by a smile. The best part was that Stiles was actually working towards something now rather than just being stuck here. It was good. Maybe by the time he left he'd be able to make first line. He could dream. A knock at the door surprised him and Stiles jerked up before slowly putting his book face down on the futon. Taylor and Aubrey were behind the door and Aubrey's eyes were red.  
"Shit," Stiles exhaled. Taylor rolled his eyes and pushed Stiles out of the way before guiding Aubrey in. "Um do you want…water or something?" he questioned haltingly as Aubrey sat down gingerly. She just shook her head slowly in response. "So you're pregnant," Stiles said eventually. Aubrey's face crumpled before she nodded. "And you haven't told Chase?"  
"No," she answered quietly.  
"Okay…" Stiles drifted off slowly, wondering why they had come to him. Aubrey tugged a hand through her hair.  
"I just need somewhere people won't be looking for me right now."  
"Am I that transparent?" Stiles questioned weakly.  
"It's okay," Aubrey exhaled, "I wouldn't expect you to show up on my doorstep in the middle of a crisis either."  
"Well…how are things with Chase?" Aubrey lifted one shoulder.  
"He's perfect. Hale?" Stiles felt himself blush and it froze him. Why was he blushing?  
"We're okay."  
"You're the talk of the town," Taylor said from the doorway of the kitchen. Stiles spun and gaped at him.  
"What?" he yelped.

There was a beat of silence.  
"Hale smiles now," Taylor added.  
"He does not," Stiles snapped, frowning when Taylor only smiled at him.  
"He does," Aubrey agreed. "Shane and Aiden think it's adorable." Stiles thought back. Derek had been smiling a lot more. But so what? It's not like it meant anything.  
"Does  _everyone_ talk about us?"  
"Well now the drama with Genevieve is over…partly," Aubrey said, rubbing at her nose, "so yeah."  
"The drama with Genevieve?" Stiles echoed eager for a change of topic.  
"Aiden said he wasn't going to defend her anymore. No one else was stepping up to the plate so she has to behave now."  
"You lost me," Stiles admitted.  
"At the gathering. Apparently Genevieve said some unflattering things. Not surprising. Well Chase snapped at her and Aiden tackled him. Then they wrestled around a bit while Genevieve turned tail and ran."  
"Aiden was defending her because?" Aubrey frowned then.  
"He loves her." Stiles let that sit for a moment, frowning again.  
"So why aren't they…?"  
"Aiden tried," Aubrey said softly, "Genevieve wanted Chase."  
"Oh," Stiles let out after a moment. "Awkward."  
"But now everyone can focus on you and Hale's smiles." Stiles shot a glare at Taylor before huffing out a breath.  
"I'm funny damn it."  
"You're not that funny." Stiles jaw flapped open.  
"I thought I liked you," he exhaled.  
"You do like me and you know who likes you? Derek."

Stiles was blushing again and this was getting ridiculous.  
"He does not. Shut up."  
"Does too," Taylor sang before stepping to the futon and sitting next to Aubrey.  
"Does  _not_ ," Stiles repeated, "we talked about it and we're trying just to be friends okay?"  
"Methinks he doth protest too much," Aubrey stage whispered to Taylor.  
"I will kick you both out," Stiles huffed.  
"Look there's no point denying it," Aubrey told him. "You wouldn't be so worked up if you didn't like him too." God he was blushing again. This was not happening.  
"No." He shook his head for emphasis. "No okay? Yeah we're getting along and it's been good okay but nothing has been going on. No. We're just…roommates. We're Laverne and Shirley okay?" Aubrey tilted her head and Taylor smirked at him.  
"Laverne and Shirley? Weren't they supposed to be gay for each other?"  
" _What_? No!" Stiles turned from both of them, plopping on the stairs and crossing his arms. "There is something wrong with both of you. So, so wrong."  
"We're not the ones in denial," Taylor told him.  
"We  _can't_ be in denial," Aubrey added dryly.  
"I'm not in denial!" Stiles insisted. "There is nothing going on because in a little over two months I'm going home so just stop it!" He stopped just short at covering his ears, crossing his arms again and leaning over his knees instead. Taylor pushed off the couch and crossed to him slowly. He leaned against the banister, looking down at Stiles.  
"Look it's not going to help you if a month down the road your little denial boat crashes and burns okay? You've been spending almost all your time with him Stiles."  
"I can't like him," Stiles mumbled sadly.  
"Yeah well Aubrey couldn't be pregnant either."  
"He doesn't want a mate. And Chase will be thrilled I'm sure."  
"You have to accept it and try to deal with it Stiles. Especially with the full moon coming." Stiles groaned and buried his face in his arms.  
"Okay you know what? Quiet game or I really will kick you out."

Taylor sighed and pushed back off the banister.  
"Actually I should go," Aubrey said. "Chase will be back soon."  
"You want to tell him alone?" Aubrey sighed before chewing on her lip.  
"Not really…but it doesn't seem like the kind of thing you're supposed to do in public."  
"You know everyone will know within seconds anyways," Stiles offered, " _apparently_ they all have a thing for gossip here."  
"I don't know…" Stiles pushed himself off the stairs.  
"We're all gonna stick together okay?" Taylor questioned. "You have to tell him and we're gonna be there when you do."  _We?_  
"Really?" Aubrey questioned and it sounded like she was about to cry. Stiles felt himself wince. How was he supposed to say no to a pregnant woman? What if she had puppies? He pasted on a smile and tried to sound reassuring.  
"Yup, we'll be with you."  
"Okay," she agreed, face scrunching up.  
"Why don't we go to the diner? You hungry?" Taylor asked. She nodded, dabbing at her eyes.  
"Starving." Taylor just smiled at her; apparently he already knew the answer.  
"Alright," he said, "then let's go."  
"Thanks Taylor," Aubrey said softly, after a moment she looked to Stiles, "you too Stiles."  
"No problem," he exhaled.  
"Hey I'm not doing it for nothing; I expect to be this kid's godfather." Aubrey laughed at that.  
"You're impossible."

They didn't talk about it. They ordered food and made small talk and when Chase and Brennan came in together, silence abruptly fell.  
"You weren't at home," Chase said, approaching slowly. Brennan followed behind him, eyes locked on Taylor. Taylor offered a small smile before tilting his head to the left a bit. Relief flashed over Brennan's face and he smiled too. Stiles' eyebrows pushed up. Apparently they had very good nonverbal communication. He wasn't jealous. He wasn't going to let himself be jealous.  
"We're…celebrating," Aubrey said haltingly.  
"Your heart's racing," Chase informed her on a whisper, lips pursing slightly.  
"Y-Yeah." She took a deep breath before meeting his eyes again. "I um," she paused, taking another breath, "okay. Wow. I'm…pregnant." It was absolutely silent in the diner for exactly four seconds before the door clicked shut, Derek freezing there as nearly everyone turned to him.  
"What?" Chase questioned, breathless. Stiles managed to pull his eyes of Derek in time to see Aubrey offer a watery smile. "Pregnant?" he exhaled, reaching out to touch her, pausing and letting his fingertips graze against where her hands were balled in her lap. Chase finally smiled, so wide it showed off nearly all of his teeth. He bolted forward to kiss her forehead before drawing back slightly. "You'll stay?" he questioned then, "You'll stay with me?" Aubrey was crying then but she nodded jerkily.  
"Mmhmm." Chase let out a noise that sounded like a swallowed howl.  
"I love you." Aubrey pushed off her stool and threw her arms around his neck.  
"I love you too," she answered before curling into his chest. Stiles shook his head slightly even as he smiled. She'd been so upset just a few weeks ago. Maybe that's what love did to people. His smile fell off and, unwillingly, he looked to Derek again. Derek was watching him and Stiles wasn't surprised. All in all, he didn't know how to feel about that. Sure that his exit wouldn't be noticed Stiles slid from the stool and made his way to Derek. Derek didn't say a word, simply pushing back out the door. Biting at his lip, too many thoughts buzzing through his brain, Stiles followed.

They didn't speak on the walk and Stiles wasn't sure but he thought that Derek was unhappy, somehow. This worried him for a number of reasons. Derek's expression was unreadable so for him to be unhappy and for Stiles to  _know_  he was unhappy…well that was creepy. He didn't want some form of nonverbal communication like Taylor and Brennan had. He  _didn't_. They didn't talk and they didn't know each other that well and he was perfectly fine with that. They got along. They did not make goo goo eyes or have silent conversations. Secondly why should Stiles be worried if he was? He hadn't done anything wrong. But he wasn't worried for himself and that was maybe the worst of all. He didn't want Derek to be upset purely because he didn't want Derek to be upset. That didn't really sit well with Stiles. He was mostly sure that it shouldn't sit well with him anyways. Derek opened the door for him and Stiles passed him cautiously, blowing out a sigh and groaning when he saw his book closed on the floor.  
"They lost my damn place!" he complained too loudly, tossing a hand in the air. "They come busting in here and complain all over me and throw my book on the floor when I was having a perfectly okay day reading. Damn it!" He cut off, spinning on one heel as Derek chuckled.  
"So you were dragged against your will to the diner by Taylor and Aubrey? By your hair no doubt." Stiles glared at him for a moment before bending for his book and flopping down.  
"You heard," he exhaled. "You can't say no to pregnant people okay? They've got hormones and cravings and they  _cry_ Derek. They cry." Derek hung his jacket on the banister before joining him and taking the book.  
"You finally dropped the Sensei crap," he commented as he opened the book and began flicking through the pages. Stiles was distracted for a moment, watching his long fingers against the pale pages. He frowned when he realized Derek was right. He still hardly ever referred to him by name and it felt like he'd crossed a line. He ducked his head as he blushed.  
"Momentarily discontinued. Not dropped," he insisted.  
"They're in a coffee shop," Derek murmured, "sound familiar?"  
"I was past that," Stiles sighed, "here let me," he reached for the book, their hands tangling together for just a split second. Stiles nearly dropped the book, wholly unprepared for the flash of heat over his skin. He flipped through the pages quickly, eyes moving back and forth too quickly to actually take in any of the words. "Here," he said, finally settling on a random page, "I was here."  
"Okay," Derek agreed easily. He took the book back carefully and after another moment began to read. Stiles leaned his elbow on the arm rest and tried to calm himself back down. Nothing was going on.  _Nothing_ he stressed. _Nothing, nothing, nothing_.

But it wasn't nothing. It was so much not nothing that Stiles couldn't sleep that night. He flopped over for maybe the eightieth time before tossing the cover back and getting out of bed. He went down the stairs slowly and examined Derek's sleeping form for a few moments before going to the kitchen for a drink. Derek groaned quietly as he passed and Stiles froze just inside the doorway. Derek rolled over and he sighed to himself before moving again. He'd just set the glass back down inside the sink when Derek spoke. "Laura." The word was quiet, urgent. Stiles frowned. Oh. He'd forgotten about the nightmares. He turned back to Derek, wondering if he'd been having them still. "Laura," Derek repeated, shifting slightly on the futon. That was all it took. Stiles moved forward and climbed carefully into the bed, finding Derek's hand blindly and wrapping his own around it.  
"It's okay," he whispered. Derek shifted closer, falling silent. Stiles knew he should wait until Derek seemed calm and then he should go. Still his eyelids were heavy and he just kept promising himself  _in a minute_. One of his last thoughts was that this was sort of nice.

Stiles woke when the bed moved suddenly and he blinked rapidly, half sitting up. He wasn't in bed. He was downstairs. The futon hadn't moved either. Derek had moved.  
"Um," Derek let out, looking away.  _Shit_ Stiles had fallen asleep on him. Stiles tried to get out of bed too fast, ending up on the floor. He shook himself and stood.  
"Sorry?" he tried, wincing.  
"Did something…happen?" Derek questioned haltingly, brow furrowed as he stared up at him.  
"No," Stiles lied. "I just…uh…" he hadn't come up with a story yet. He moved into the kitchen as a distraction.  
"You're lying," Derek called after him before he'd come up with anything. Stiles bit at his lip.  
"Am not," he lied again.  
"I can hear your heart," Derek told him then. Stiles frowned; trying desperately to remember if that had been mentioned. He was pretty sure it hadn't. "You wanna try the truth?"  
"I don't think you want to talk about this," Stiles tried then, rubbing his eyes hard, "you think you want to talk about this but you don't want to talk about this."  
"No I just need to know what happened," Derek got off the futon then, following him, "because if you wanted to sleep with me, if your body was urging you to, I need to know." Stiles busied himself filling up the same glass from last night.  
"That's not what happened." He frowned to himself as he took a gulp. He hadn't been able to sleep but that wasn't what happened. Was it? "Is that something that happens?" he questioned.  
"It can," Derek said, "but what did?"  
"You sure you want to talk about this?" Stiles hedged. Derek nodded once before spinning his hand in a  _continue_ motion.

Stiles glanced down to the worn tile beneath his toes. "You know you have nightmares right? I mean of course you know you do but basically…I came down for a drink and you were having one and it worked before so I-"  
"What do you mean it worked before?" Derek snapped, cutting him off. Shit he was pissed. Verging on Baked Alaska and it had been so long since Stiles had seen the expression he'd nearly forgotten all about it.  
"Well the uh-when we-the first time we slept together," Stiles stuttered. "I just kind of…talked to you and managed to calm you down and so I figured if I could help you I would I mean-yeah."  
"You thought that was a good idea?" Derek gritted, eyes flaring lighter as he glared at him.  
"Yes?" Stiles chickened out and let it turn into a question.  
"Damn it," Derek let out. "You've been bonding with me and I didn't even know!"  
"Bonding?" Derek just shook his head.  
"I don't want to talk about this."  
"What? You said you did and you can't just say something like that and then walk away." Derek obviously disagreed because he turned and left the kitchen, shaking his head still.  
"Bonding you idiot!" Derek snarled, rounding on him as he tried to follow. "We are  _mates_ in case you forgot and there are things that are going to draw us closer together. You comforting me when I'm upset is one of them!" Stiles stumbled backwards, nearly falling.  
"But you…comforted me," he added weakly.  
"Yes when you were conscious and aware of what was going on I did and only when you  _needed_  it."  
"I thought you did need it," Stiles protested again.  
"I was doing just fine on my own!" Derek yelled.  
"Yeah all of your relationships are clearly flourishing," Stiles bit before he could stop it. Derek's glare only intensified and Stiles suddenly felt very much like cowering in the kitchen. His mouth clearly hadn't caught up with his brain because it just kept going. "Have you even had a relationship since Laura?"  
"What did you just say?" Derek questioned quietly, the glare wiped off his face. Stiles never wished he could yank words back into his mouth more in his life.  
"That's what you say," he murmured, looking down again. "You just keep saying 'Laura' over and over." Derek shifted and the silence was suddenly pressing. "Who was she?" Another long moment of silence passed before Stiles risked a glance up. Derek actually looked wounded. His eyes met Stiles' and his expression closed off.

"Stop talking," he snapped, turning away again.  
"We need to talk about this," Stiles argued.  
"Stop talking," Derek growled again.  
"Derek," Stiles breathed slowly, "who was she?"  
" _Stiles_. Do you ever shut your goddamn mouth?" Derek demanded. Stiles blinked at the back of his head with wide eyes. Derek had never actually used his name before. Never. He was too shocked to respond and Derek walked away, jacket slithering from the banister just before the door slammed. It was a long time before Stiles moved, muscles stiff with inactivity when he finally did. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. He wandered through the house several times, waiting for Derek to return. Not that he had any idea what he would say when Derek did get back. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when he remembered that it was Sunday and Derek had class. Probably too much to hope for that the Tai Chi would calm him down. Stiles brought both hands over his eyes before sighing. He'd need to apologize. He knew that. It wasn't like he'd known what bonding was, or that he was doing it. But then the whole Laura thing. He gritted his teeth and tried to remind himself that he had no right to ask. He didn't like that thought at all. For the first time in a while Stiles thought he might be in over his head. He might be in way over his head.

Derek didn't come back that night. He wasn't back when Stiles woke on Monday either. Stiles wandered through the house several times again before taking a stack of books upstairs with a sigh. He didn't know what else to do. Derek had to come back; it was just a matter of when. Stiles didn't want to risk venturing out. The last thing he needed was the entire settlement talking about them fighting now. The thought made him grimace.  _Derek smiles now_. What the fuck was that even supposed to mean to him? Jesus. So they got along. So maybe Derek wasn't so angry all the time. That didn't mean anything. Except the more he tried to tell himself that, the more it felt like a lie. If  _everyone_ was talking about it then that probably meant that it  _was_ something. Stiles sighed yet again and let his book drop down. He thought that he mostly already knew that. He thought back to Taylor saying he was in a little boat of denial and maybe that wasn't so far off the mark either. It was too late to go back now and suddenly Stiles was sinking backwards into all the memories of the past few weeks. Yeah it had been weird and awkward as hell but then they actually talked and…it worked. It was scary how well it worked. But then they fought again. He pinched the bridge of his nose. And the full moon was happening. Stiles wasn't even sure if it was tonight or tomorrow. He wondered if that was why Derek still hadn't returned. Was he purposely staying away so they didn't sleep together again? Was that why they had fought? Maybe the full moon was kicking everything up a notch for Derek. Stiles wondered if Derek would have told him if it had. He had no idea. Maybe they had just fought because that was what they were always going to do. Maybe they were too different. Maybe the past two weeks had just been…a fluke. Stiles huffed out another agitated breath. All he could do was wait for Derek to come back so he did. He waited and waited. The full moon came and passed. Derek didn't return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still sorry about no smut in this one.


	9. Come Sweet Fire of Mercy

Shane supposed he'd been waiting for the final straw all day. He supposed that this had been coming for even longer than that. The quiet growl of Hale's engine was unmistakable and Shane's hand curled when it hit his ears. The dishrag in his fist oozed water and whatever bits of food had been clinging to the edges of it. He leaned away from the counter and flung it to the ground with a slap of sound. In another second he'd launched his body over the counter and was stalking towards the windows. Everyone in the diner was perfectly silent, silverware had frozen over plates and he felt more than one pair of eyes on him. The engine cut off and Shane's eyes narrowed as he focused on Hale getting out of his car and shutting the door. Shane cracked his knuckles with his thumbs, waiting impatiently. It was another several moments before Derek discovered what he already knew, the house was empty. Shane half turned towards the back, listening to Stiles' even breathing and steady heart, before moving for the door. His vision was already sharpening around the edges and his short, tense breaths were getting closer and closer to growls. Hale was about fifty feet down the street, stock still. As if he knew exactly where Stiles was and hadn't decided whether or not he should go try to get him back. Shane snarled at that thought.  
"Hale!" he yelled, tearing his apron off as his feet dug into the earth, propelling him forward in urgent strides. Memories blipped through him as Derek started moving towards him as well, obviously more hesitant. Shane didn't care. He'd played this thing right from the very beginning, worried about Stiles getting hurt. He'd followed the rules to the letter, he'd taken a restraint, he'd even played nice with Hale afterwards. The skin still pink and new around his wrist seemed to flare with heat as he thought about it. Shane gritted his teeth. Pure silver, prolonged exposure. His hand still hadn't fully healed and he'd only worn it for two days. And after all that… Stiles shows up on his door pale, exhausted, not even willing to talk. It had taken Shane nearly fifteen minutes just to get him to eat. Shane thought listening to Stiles cry quietly as he cooked and served was going to kill him. There were barely ten feet of space between them now. Shane snarled. If Hale wouldn't take care of Stiles then Shane would.

Derek hadn't been expecting Shane to lunge at him, from the nearly comical way his eyebrows rose and he dove to the side. Shane snarled again. Derek regained his feet and brushed off his elbow. There were about a million things Shane could have said but his patience was gone so he kept it simple. "I want Stiles," he growled. Derek's eyes narrowed and he snapped his teeth just before his eyes flared blue. Shane's lips twisted as he let the wolf take over. It was all much simpler then.  _Attack_. He lunged again but Derek didn't flinch this time, bending his knees and bracing instead. Shane pushed him back several inches before swinging with his claws. Derek snarled at the attack, baring his teeth as he backed off. Shane smiled, moving on instinct when Derek swung forward and snapped his jaw inches from where Shane's neck had been. Wolves were watching them now, not stupid enough to get close. Shane and Derek didn't waste time. They didn't circle each other or posture. They went straight for the kill. Derek attacked again and Shane waited until the last possible second to dodge. He wasn't above letting people underestimate him. He was big so he was slow. Go ahead and think that. He had a chance to catch Derek's back unguarded but let it pass. A better chance would come along if he played this right. Derek rounded on him again and Shane growled. Derek growled louder in response so Shane swung at him again. Derek caught his arm and threw it away before kicking him hard in the stomach. The force of it pushed Shane back almost a foot and he nearly doubled over from the pain. Of course that was when he remembered Derek's job was teaching kickboxing. He shook his head once before thinking about how Stiles had looked that morning. He placed his left hand over his stomach, as if he actually did need a moment. When Derek got close enough Shane pivoted and sunk his claws into Derek's neck. He really only had time to transplant one image and Shane wished there was time for more. He wished Derek could see what he'd done. All of it.

Derek exhaled in a sharp burst before shoving him off and staggering back half a step. He lifted one hand to the healing scratches and backed up further. Shane lunged again and the fight continued. Derek got a swipe in that Shane hadn't actually given to him and Shane was worried that Derek saw through him. He gritted his teeth. It was when Derek froze, clearly distracted, that Shane thought the memory had taken hold. He took advantage and jumped forward, taking Derek's shoulders in both paws before sinking his teeth into the meat where Derek's neck met his body. Derek howled and tried to throw him off but Shane just sunk his teeth in further. He wasn't expecting Derek to suddenly shrink down.  
"Stop," he gritted out, "please." Shane released him but didn't fully drop his guard as Derek had. He licked his lips and when something slapped against his back Shane growled. "No!" Derek yelled eyes wide as blood gushed from his neck. It was enough for Shane to pause again, for him to realize they were no longer alone.  
"- are you  _doing_?" Stiles was yelping, wiggling his way between them. Shane forced his wolf back before taking a calming breath.  
"Stiles I could have killed you!" he let out, exasperated.  
"I could kill you!" Stiles returned indignantly, rising up to his tip toes and stabbing a finger into Shane's chest. "What the hell are you doing?" Shane was amused for a moment, until Derek's eyes closed and he sagged to the ground as if all his strings had been cut.

…

The black was welcoming at this point. Finally he could just close his eyes and  _rest_. Someone was pulling on him and there was an urgent voice in his ear. Derek squeezed his eyes closed tighter and groaned quietly.  
"Derek please," the voice was getting quieter and Derek was glad, sinking further into the dark. His body swung up suddenly and Derek opened his eyes in slits, groaning again. All he saw was Stiles' face, eyes wide and shining. Stiles was fine. Derek closed his eyes again as a hand slid into his. He dimly registered that he was being carried but couldn't bring himself to care beyond that. It hurt when he was set down and he groaned again, the hand in his tightening on his lax fingers. There was more quiet murmuring which Derek ignored. Eventually a body slid next to his and it was warm.  _Stiles_. It was Stiles. Derek managed a quiet sigh and breathed him in carefully before finally slipping off.

He didn't dream and that in and of itself was a relief. Stiles stayed close, Derek waking a bit when he moved away. He listened for him, eyes still closed, as Stiles went to the kitchen and came back. Stiles sighed before crossing to the stairs and climbing them quickly. Derek was contemplating trying to actually sit up when he heard Stiles coming back and relaxed again. Stiles pulled at the collar of his shirt slowly before cutting into the fabric. Derek laid still and let Stiles cut his shirt off, nearly jumping when a cool cloth began swiping at his neck. "Almost healed," Stiles murmured, "yeah you'll be fine…just a bit more time." Stiles finished wiping him off before following up with a towel, still murmuring to himself. When he moved to get up again Derek held on to him. Stiles' heart jumped and he gasped before freezing. "You're awake?" he questioned.  
"Not really," Derek breathed in response.  
"You okay?" he asked haltingly.  
"I'll be fine," Derek admitted, opening his eyes slowly. Stiles was gnawing on his bottom lip, throat flushed. He looked away after a second. "You don't have to take care of me." Stiles' mouth twitched at that.  
"You were gone," he let out, staring directly at the wall.  
"It was the full moon." Stiles laughed shortly, just once.  
"It's never going to be good is it? We're never going to be…" he drifted off and stood, shaking Derek's hands off as he did.  
"What?" Derek prompted as he went back to the kitchen.  
"Never mind," Stiles snapped, "I'm shutting my mouth." Derek let his eyes close for just a second before sitting up slowly, letting the scraps of his shirt fall away. He stood even slower, following after Stiles.

He leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, trying to conserve his energy.  
"It's not your fault." Stiles didn't respond. "I told you there were reasons I was alone."  
"You should be in bed," Stiles said, abandoning washing out the rag and turning.  
"I'll be fine. He didn't do any permanent damage." Stiles' lips pressed thin at that. He crossed his arms over his chest.  
"You should be resting. You're hurt you should be resting." Derek sighed. He should have stayed unconscious. Maybe Stiles would have cuddled with him.  
"Will you read to me?" Stiles' eyebrows jerked as he gaped at him.  
"No." Well he should have seen that coming.  
"Will you stay with me?" Derek didn't really think about how it would sound until it was out. Stiles snorted.  
"No."  
"Will you let me apologize?"  
"Aren't you tired of apologizing?" Stiles questioned. "Aren't you tired of fighting? Aren't you tired of fucking  _trying_?" That hurt.  
"Are you?" he asked after a beat.  
"Yes!" the word burst from Stiles as if it was all he'd wanted to say for a month. He closed his eyes and took a breath. "Yes I am tired. I'm going to bed."  
"Upstairs?" Derek questioned quietly. Stiles uncrossed his arms and pressed his fingertips to his closed eyes.  
"Yes Derek," he said slowly, as if dealing with a child, "upstairs." Derek nodded and then just let his head hang down, examining the floor. Stiles waited several moments, apparently waiting for Derek to move. When that didn't happen he sighed again and carefully edged past him, hurrying for the stairs. Derek sighed. Eventually he flicked out the lights and sat down on the futon. He could have lost him today. He could have lost him and all he wanted to do was hold him in his arms and be sure that he was completely whole. But he couldn't do that. And that was his fault.

Derek never knew he was dreaming. Maybe that was the worst part of it. He didn't remember falling asleep. There was no sepia glow or realization of  _this has already happened_. No such gifts. Instead he was in the woods at night, back in his thirteen year old body. He still hadn't learned to control the change and it was so wonderfully freeing just to run through the trees. It didn't matter if he went from two legs to four, no one was watching him. Laura hadn't wanted to go out that night. But he'd whined until she agreed. He'd been overjoyed, hopping up and down as she sighed and pulled her hair into a pony tail before moving for the door. She ruffled his hair and he didn't even complain, following her out. They'd lived just inside the woods so Derek took off as soon as he was out the door. He ran and ran, Laura only staying close enough to keep an eye on him. He didn't even really notice when she wasn't there anymore. Maybe he'd been too excited. Maybe she'd been too far back. But he knew it didn't matter either way. By the time he smelled them Peter had caught up to him, slapping a hand over his mouth.  
"Shh," Peter breathed right in his ear. "They don't know we're here Derek just be quiet okay?"  _But what about Laura?_ He couldn't ask with his uncle's hand clamped over his mouth. Peter's other hand was on his shoulder, clenching tighter when they heard a howl. "Don't make a sound. Derek just be quiet okay? We need to be quiet." The words were whispered rapidly, burrowing into his ear as Peter held onto him. Something was crashing through the brush to the right below them, loud and heavy. A wounded animal. He smelled the blood before he saw the source of it. And Derek couldn't help getting a little excited. He'd loved the smell of blood. He'd loved the hunt. But then he saw her. His sister. His beautiful older sister.  _She_ was the wounded animal. She was the one running for her life this time. The excitement in Derek's chest thickened and fell to the pit of his stomach. It smelled all wrong now, bitter and foul. He couldn't breathe and he felt ill. No this couldn't be happening. It had to be some sick sort of dream. His body half jerked forward before swinging back, still caught tightly in Peter's hands. "Don't look Derek, please don't look." Laura's foot caught in a root and she tumbled to the ground. They nearly had a perfect view of it.  _Get up, get up, please get up._ He saw them then, five men following along behind her, stepping from the shadows. They held guns, one a crossbow. Laura was still on the ground, forehead pressing into the dirt as she panted.  _Laura please._ Derek couldn't breathe and his uncle's grip really hurt now. His spine curved slightly as his body shrunk in on itself. No this couldn't be happening.  _Please_. Laura wasn't moving. She had to move. She had to.  _They're behind you_ he wanted to yell  _Laura please run please._ His throat burned with the words as they crashed together and clung to the sides of his esophagus.  _Be quiet Derek_. It was always the very last moment he woke up. The strangled whimper his sister had given as the knife tore through her heart. He would never understand why they hadn't just shot her. He would never understand why they got close enough to flip her over and look into her eyes as they killed her.  
"Laura!"

It was that yell that brought him tumbling back into consciousness. Derek was on his feet before he realized it was only a dream. Again. He stood a few feet from the futon, panting as he tried to push it away. He was fine. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eye sockets hard. He was fine. He was fine. Repeating the words in his head did nothing to calm him. His chest ached. His heart ached. For one awful moment it seemed as if everything ached. He wanted his mate. He wanted Stiles so badly. Forcing himself back to the futon was so difficult it seemed to take an hour. He sat heavily and pressed his hands to his eyes again. Stiles hadn't come to him. He huffed quickly as his eyes burned. Why should he? Why come when he knew Derek would only bite at his hand for trying? But it wasn't Stiles' fault. Derek could try to blame him. He could try to blame Shane too. Scenting. Bonding. Whatever excuse he could toss up to defend himself. But it wasn't anyone's fault. Not really. It was his own damn fault. And really, Derek shouldn't be surprised by that. He stood on restless feet and made his way up the stairs. He wouldn't go in. He wouldn't climb in that bed. He just wanted to make sure Stiles was okay. It seemed a good enough reason to stop outside the door and sink to the floor of the narrow hallway. Derek kept one leg bent and let his other extend out so that his foot brushed against the door. He let his hands fall to his sides, fingers curling around nothing. Stiles was breathing evenly. Of course he was. He shook his head before letting it rest on his shoulder. He hadn't been sleeping much the past couple days. After all this time it felt unnatural to be alone. Derek wondered what he was going to do when Stiles left. His stomach curled at the thought and he decided he didn't want to think about that. Not even a little bit. The third time he woke up in the cramped space he forced himself back up and went downstairs. He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge before closing it. Then he stood there a few moments and stared at nothing in particular. He wanted to run away again. He wanted to be too far from Stiles to hurt him. But there was nowhere to go. He couldn't actually live on his own. It was too dangerous. He couldn't go back to his family. Bile rose in his throat just at the passing thought. He sighed and leaned against the fridge, forehead resting against the cool metal. He didn't know what to do.

Ross didn't look happy to see him. Derek wouldn't be happy to see him either. And he doubted it was because he was half naked and still covered in dried blood. Ross simply sighed though, stepping back and waving Derek forward.  
"I suppose I should have expected this," Ross sighed, turning to the left and entering the dining room. Derek followed behind silently. "Please sit Mr. Hale." He did, bowing his head and knitting his fingers together in his lap. Ross took the chair next to him and tapped his fingernails along the smooth polished wood. "I assume you have something to say," he prompted eventually. Derek let his eyes close.  
"I don't know what to do," he gritted. "I don't know what to do. I keep hurting him. I  _told_ you this wouldn't work."  
"Maybe it would if you wanted it to," Ross suggested then. Derek gritted his teeth.  
"But I  _don't_ want it to. Trap him here with me forever? I don't think so."  
"What's the worst that could happen?" Derek felt his nostrils flare as he inhaled deeply.  
"You know what could happen."  
"Derek I really wish you would seek therapy as I have suggested. You cannot keep blaming yourself for your sister's death."  
"It was my fault!" Derek yelled. "Don't psychoanalyze me or bullshit me. It was my fault and nothing you say is ever going to change that!"  
"You were a child. Your family was attacked. If anything it was your parents' fault for not properly warning you of the dangers."

Derek's fist slammed on the table, shaking it.  
"Don't say that," he growled. "They couldn't have known."  
"And you could?"  
"That's not the point."  
"Then what is?"  
"The point is that all I do is hurt people. The point is that I should have been the one to die." Ross sighed at him. He waited a beat before changing directions.  
"Have you tried talking to Stiles?"  
"He won't talk to me," Derek admitted, "he's angry with me."  
"Why is he angry with you?" Derek ducked his head again. How Ross always seemed to have this aura of disapproving adult he would never know.  
"I told him to shut up."  
"Oh? I highly doubt that would actually shut Stiles up." Derek sighed. He drew his hands back into his lap.  
"I might have been a bit worse about it." Ross was silent for a long time and Derek barely avoided fidgeting.  
"Don't you care for the boy at all?" Derek didn't answer and Ross sighed again. "He is so opposite you. Light where you are dark and loud where you are quiet, ridiculous where you are melancholy. I thought no one would ever fit you so well as him."  
"So he was supposed to make me better and I was supposed to make him worse? Is that fair?"  
"Not worse. Balanced. He's calmer here. He doesn't take medication anymore. I even recall the two of you going for runs." Derek frowned at him.  
"You say that like I'm actually…"  
"Good for him?" Ross prompted.

Derek's frown deepened and he was tempted to snap his teeth for good measure. "You can't keep letting one mistake of your life define you Derek."  
"It does define me," Derek insisted yet again. "You don't know what it's like." Ross scratched at his forehead briefly.  
"No I don't. But I do know what regrets are like. And I do know if you don't let it go you're going to lose him."  
"I'm going to lose him anyways. Losing him is the plan."  
"Oh," Ross said, as if that explained everything. "Well carry on then." Derek groaned before crossing his arms. "I'm assuming you came to me for help. I can't help you if you don't tell me what you're afraid of. Are you afraid of caring too much and then losing him? Because Derek it looks like that's already happening. And you still have two months left."  
"I'm not worried about that," Derek muttered, "I can let him go. It's the right thing."  
"What is it then?" Derek didn't have an answer ready and Ross gave a quiet  _hm_ before leaning back and placing his chin carefully in his hand. "You are afraid that it  _will_ work. Aren't you?"  
"Of course not."  
"You're afraid he'll fall for you," Ross continued.  
"Not possible," Derek gritted.  
"Isn't it?" Ross didn't react as he shoved his chair back and stood. Derek didn't say anything else before leaving, taking care not to slam the door even though he felt like it.

Derek kicked at the dirt as he walked before seeing Amelia staring at him, pushing up her glasses with thin lips as his eyes met hers.  
"Morning Hale," she offered, crossing her arms. Derek gritted his teeth before nodding. She was right, the sun was starting to peek over the horizon and the sky was splashed red with it. Derek kept moving. He still had to figure out what the hell he was going to do before Stiles woke up. He didn't think he was going to have an answer before his time was up. But why did he have to do anything? Wasn't Stiles being mad at him a good thing? Wouldn't that only make it easier when the time came? He grimaced at the thought and opened the door, freezing with one foot through the doorway when he saw Stiles sitting on the futon, arms wrapped around his torso. Stiles hiccupped and looked up to him before swiping a hand under both eyes quickly. An awful pain split open in his chest and Derek slammed the door behind him before crossing to Stiles and pulling him into his arms.  
"Why are you shirtless?" Stiles complained voice thick.  
"What's wrong?" Derek questioned softly. Stiles inhaled unevenly and wiped at his cheek.  
"You keep leaving," he let out. "You're supposed to be here and you keep leaving and I don't know what to do when you're not here."  
"I'm trying not to hurt you Stiles," he murmured, rubbing between Stiles' shoulders.  
"Leaving does hurt me," Stiles said, sagging against him. "You're supposed to be here. You're supposed to want me," he added even quieter.  _I do want you. So badly._  
"I thought you were asleep."  
"I wasn't."  
"I'm sorry Stiles. I'm sorry." Stiles sighed quietly and Derek picked him up carefully before turning for the stairs. Stiles curled into him and Derek's chest warmed in a way he couldn't ignore. He couldn't make himself let go of Stiles when he reached the bed but Stiles' arms weren't leaving his neck anyways so Derek just tucked his body around Stiles' and pulled the sheet over both of them.

Stiles was still passed out cold when Derek woke up a few hours later. He'd flopped onto his back, one of his arms still trapped under Derek's neck. His mouth was parted slightly as he breathed in and out and Derek couldn't make himself move then either. In all reality he should get up. He should take a shower or eat something. Maybe even get something for Stiles to eat. But the bed was so comfortable. Derek drifted back to a few days ago, was it only a few days? He hadn't wanted to get out of bed then either. That had never been a problem before Stiles came. Bed was where he had nightmares or where he slept as much as he needed. It wasn't somewhere he spent his spare time. It wasn't somewhere he felt good. He sighed and looked back to his mate. He was getting attached. But he'd already known that. He couldn't help going back over his and Ross' conversation.  _I thought no one would ever fit you so well as him._ He wanted to deny it. But they did fit together, in an odd sort of way. When things hadn't worked Stiles had found a way to talk to him. Then for a while things had been good. Derek nearly found himself ending class early on more than one occasion just so he could get home to him. That had never been a problem before either. Stiles had turned his life upside down. But most days Derek didn't even mind that he had. But what about Stiles? Didn't he want to go home? What about his father? Another way Stiles wasn't like Derek. He had someone to go home to. Derek sighed. What was he supposed to do? He wanted Stiles but he didn't want to want him because he certainly couldn't keep him. But he didn't want to hurt Stiles anymore either. He sighed again. This was why he was alone. He didn't know how to be with people. He wasn't good with people. It just would have been so much easier if he hadn't claimed Stiles in the first place. Derek gritted his teeth and backed off those thoughts. He couldn't think about that. The full moon had passed but he'd been away from his mate. The urges were still there. Urges of things he could not have. Just remembering how badly he'd wanted to come back set his teeth on edge.

He sat up and tore a hand through his hair, freezing when Stiles stirred behind him.  
"Derek?" he questioned sleepily.  
"Hey," Derek returned lamely.  
"Where are you going?" Stiles questioned, sitting up and yawning.  
"Not going," Derek breathed, unsure if he was lying, "just thinking."  
"Bout what?" Stiles squinted at him as he asked and Derek couldn't help a small smile.  
"You," he answered honestly.  
"Oh." Stiles blinked a few times as his throat flushed. Derek wondered for the first time if Stiles had been sleeping well either.  
"Have you been sleeping?" he questioned, examining the dopey way Stiles was still staring at him.  
"I just slept," Stiles told him, frowning slightly.  
"No I meant," Derek paused, realizing he was smiling again, "never mind," he let out with a quick laugh.  
"Can we be done fighting now?" Stiles questioned. Derek's stomach twisted and he nodded.  
"Yeah. We can be done fighting now." Stiles relaxed then, leaning back against the wall.  
"Good," Stiles mumbled. "Don't wanna fight anymore." His eyes closed again and he sighed. Derek wondered how awake he actually was.  
"I don't either," he admitted. "You hungry?" he questioned after another moment.  
"Mm," Stiles managed, sliding back down into the bed.  
"Tired?" Derek tried next. Stiles smiled again.  
"Five more minutes."  
"Okay," he agreed on a whisper. Stiles' hand reached out blindly, landing on his wrist before his fingers curled and he sighed again. Derek slid back into the bed and leaned against the wall. He tried not to think about how good it felt to have Stiles hold onto him. He still had no idea what he was going to do. All he knew was that right now he was going to lay here with Stiles.

When Derek returned with Pop-Tarts Stiles woke again. It was a few minutes before he sat up and looked at Derek.  
"So we're okay?" he questioned slowly.  
"We will be I think," Derek told him, handing off the blue box. Stiles took a package and tore into it before looking back to him.  
"I mean we don't need to…" he visibly hesitated, "talk about it?" Derek shrugged.  
"I don't know how to do this Stiles."  
"Do this?" Stiles questioned, biting into his Pop-Tart. Derek sighed quietly.  
"I don't know how to toe the line between keeping you happy and getting too close."  
"Well yeah but," Stiles' heart began to accelerate, "there's not like  _actually_ a chance of that happening is there? Getting too close?" He glanced to the very limited space between them and sat up before scooting back slightly. "I mean we're just…we hang out. Right?"  
"I'm under the impression that I shouldn't lie right now," Derek admitted dryly. Stiles' heart was pounding now and he laughed quickly before looking away.  
"Wh-what does that even mean? I mean yeah lying can be bad I guess but it can also be good. You know what we don't need to talk. Nope I think we're good. We're just not going to fight anymore and you're not going to yell at me anymore and everything-"  
"Stiles. Take a deep breath." Stiles took a huge bite of Pop-Tart and chewed slowly. "Now do you want me to answer the question or was it rhetorical?" Stiles winced at him before swallowing noisily.  
"I guess. Um. Answer?" Derek watched him for a moment and Stiles took another bite.  
"No I don't think we just hang out," he said slowly. Stiles was nodding before he'd even finished. "I don't like it when we fight, I feel horrible actually, and I don't like being away from you."  
"I don't like it when we're apart either," Stiles admitted quietly. "Is that because," he paused to lick his lips, "because of the bonding? Because I really didn't mean to."

Derek paused to take a breath because his mate was uncomfortable and after everything they'd been through in the last week all he wanted to do was pull him close again.  
"It might be," he told him, deciding to stick with the honesty. "The trouble with bonding is that it just sort of starts on its own. It's difficult to tell when it's actually happening or when you're just getting closer naturally."  
"As opposed to supernaturally?" Stiles questioned wryly.  
"It was easier before," Derek admitted. "My wolf liked you and I didn't. There was clear definition. But now…"  
"We're  _hanging out_ ," Stiles insisted.  
"We've gotten closer in any case," Derek half agreed. "But I don't know how much of it would be there if I was human."  
"This wouldn't be happening if you were human," Stiles pointed out. "I wouldn't be here, you probably wouldn't be here either and if we somehow even did cross paths you'd never give me a second glance." Derek tried to imagine it for a moment. Being human. Still having a family. Being normal. He glanced to Stiles and tried to imagine he'd never seen him before.  
"Maybe you're right," he murmured, because the silence was getting too long. But Derek drifted back to his fantasy. Seeing Stiles across a street. The sun would be shining, of course, and Derek would have turned away, tuning out Laura or his parents or whoever he was with. Stiles would have been with someone too, probably talking to them with a huge smile on his face, hands waving through the air. Derek thought he would have smiled. He certainly would have spared a second glance. At least.


	10. Cover up My Skin

They sat in silence for a while after that. It was half mortified on Stiles' part, even as he shoved half the box of Pop-Tarts down his throat. He felt fine now. He felt perfectly okay. Part of his gut was telling him that it was because Derek was back and that scared him. The more he thought about it…the closer to terrified he got. When Derek was gone he'd lost all sense of time. He hadn't had any idea what to do with himself at all. In fact he was pretty sure he'd stopped eating at some point. Was that because he was  _bonded_ to Derek now? Was that what Ross had meant about getting sick? And if it had been how was it all just going to go back to normal? Was it ever going to go back to normal? What was going to happen when he went home?  
"Your heart's racing," Derek said, almost conversationally. It was enough of a question that Stiles bit his lip.  
"It was…it was bad when you were gone," he admitted quietly. "It was like…I wasn't me anymore." Derek frowned, eyebrows moving together. "And now it's better." His throat closed up. Why was that harder to admit? His hand waved in front of his chest, as if trying to pull the words out of him. "It's just a lot to take in."  
"You don't have to be scared. The feelings will die off when we don't finish the mating ceremony."  
"Oh," Stiles said even as his mind started spinning off in a new direction, "they'll just go away then. That's…good."  
"Everything will go back to normal eventually," Derek told him, looking away. For a strange moment Stiles wondered if he was talking to him or himself. He tried to push the thought away before he thought something he didn't want to think. Everything would go back to normal. It had to.

It wasn't until Derek had abandoned bed in favor of a shower that Stiles realized he wasn't really all that fond of normal. The thought made him pause. Wasn't he? Didn't he miss his life? Scott? School? His father? There was a pang and he nearly sighed in relief. Of course he missed his father. And of course he  _wouldn't_ miss school, what a stupid thought. Not to mention, Scott was kind of an idiot. He set his elbow on his knee before catching his chin and letting his mouth pinch in thought. Asides from lack of internet his life was mostly the same here. He spent a lot of time alone. Sure he knew people in Beacon Hills but asides from his father, Scott, and occasionally Mrs. McCall he didn't really even talk to anyone. He was a loner. He tried valiantly not to translate that thought to  _loser_ and failed. Even Danny wouldn't talk to him. Danny was like the nicest guy in school. He fucking talked to everyone. Except Stiles. Stiles scoffed.  _Loser_. But he didn't feel like a loser here. If anything he was a semi celebrity. Not that he really enjoyed that aspect of it. Although…it was sort of nice. Was this how Jackson felt? Stiles sighed before flopping back, laying sideways on the bed. He couldn't make any decisions concerning this little town or anyone in it. First Derek was scary then he was mega scary then he was annoying and scary again then  _really_ annoying and then sort of…sweet and then really mean and then kind of weird in general and all in all Stiles had no idea about him. Then there was Shane who was awesome and then awesome again and then sort of…not as awesome. Stiles thought of their fight again and shuddered slightly. Shane had certainly looked capable of killing someone then. For a few moments Stiles even thought… He shuddered again before letting that thought fall off. Werewolves healed remarkably well. There really hadn't been anything to worry about. If there had been someone would have stepped in. He thinks,  _hopes_ , someone would have stepped in.

There was a knock at the door before Derek eased it open and Stiles tilted his neck to look at him.  
"I'm going," Derek said, almost hesitantly. Stiles managed a smile.  
"Okay." He got distracted by a bead of water making its way down the edge of Derek's cheek and onto his jaw, nearly missing the way that Derek did in fact hesitate in the doorway. He glanced down and frowned for a second before nodding.  
"See you tonight."  
"Uh yeah," Stiles cleared his throat, "I'll be here." Derek looked to him again; frown intensifying and Stiles could feel himself frown as well.  
"Okay," Derek agreed tightly before pushing off the wood and letting the door fall closed. Stiles stared at the closed door long enough for his neck to begin to ache before finally turning away. That was weird. Derek was being weird again. He sighed and pulled a pillow over his face. He hadn't even done anything. He was like 96% sure he hadn't even done anything. He went back over the conversation again. All he'd said was that he'd be here. How was that the wrong answer? He groaned into the pillow before sitting up. Food would make him feel better. He wasn't entirely sure how but it would. Filling a plate with mini corn dogs Stiles tossed it in the microwave and estimated a time before rooting around in the fridge for a Pepsi and the bottle of ketchup. Once that was done he pulled himself onto the counter and waited for the microwave, kicking his feet and letting his heels slap back into the cabinet to entertain himself. The corn dogs were steaming when he pulled them out and more than one had split open. He sighed before making a giant puddle of ketchup and digging in. He chewed the too hot food in rhythm with kicking his feet and for a few minutes it was an okay distraction. Then a bit of the plate was cleared and Stiles realized he hadn't really been that hungry in the first place. He sighed again. It would still be hours before Derek got back and Stiles didn't even know if he wanted Derek to get back. Was he mad at him? What if he was? What if they fought again?  
"God I am so bad at this," he groaned, leaning back and letting his head hit the top cupboards. He didn't want Derek to be mad at him and he was still mostly sure he hadn't done anything wrong. And, okay,  _and_ if he had done anything wrong then why didn't Derek just tell him? Stiles used to be a huge fan of avoiding things but apparently Derek was an even bigger fan and it didn't work. At all. One of them had to man up here and apparently it was going to be Stiles. Again.

He finished eating slowly, legs no longer kicking but swaying slightly. So it looked like he had to confront Derek, again. Maybe nothing bad would happen. Maybe they would just have a talk. He rolled his eyes after another moment. Like things had ever just worked out okay for them so far. Stiles jumped when the door banged open, shoving off the counter and crossing through the kitchen only to be shoved back. The counter dug into his back as Derek pressed into his front, eyes too light. Stiles let out something that was embarrassingly close to a squeak. Derek only growled, gripping him tighter. Stiles tilted his head back, reminding himself to breathe. Derek bit down on his throat, stealing Stiles' breath and making his entire body spasm.  
" _Stay away from Shane_ ," Derek growled at him. Another shudder ran through Stiles.  
"Okay," he agreed, voice high, "okay." Derek pulled back and Stiles thought he was being released, only to be pushed back further as Derek kissed him. Stiles couldn't help a slight sound at impact, somewhere between  _uh_ and  _oomf_. Derek didn't seem to mind at all, lifting him onto the edge of the sink, one hand pressing firmly into his back. Stiles couldn't think enough to react. He couldn't really think at all and so it took him a few moments to realize that Derek was talking. He was spitting out words between the presses of their mouths and Stiles felt dizzy as he tried to understand.  
"Supposed…to argue…or say something…ridiculous," Derek hissed at him, "not sup…posed to…just… _fuck_ …just submit…like that." Stiles tried to respond only to catch Derek's mouth again. He thought it was probably a good thing since he had no idea what words had been on their way out. Derek pulled back and dropped his chin, breathing heavily as Stiles stared at the back of his neck. "Don't move," he let out breathlessly. Stiles nearly nodded before deciding that not moving was probably the best course of action. It seemed like a very long time before Derek's grip actually loosened and he looked up. "I didn't expect you to just agree with me," he said calmly, all trace of his wolf gone. Stiles lifted one shoulder in a shrug, pausing another beat before speaking.  
"Yeah well it's obviously an issue so I mean not seeing him won't be an issue." Derek squinted at him for a moment.  
"Yes. I think."  
"Was that why you were angry when you left?" Surprise registered on Derek's face.  
"Yeah," he admitted slowly.  
"Good," Stiles couldn't help a relieved grin.  
"Good?" Derek demanded, one eyebrow arching.  
"Well yeah," Stiles rushed to explain, "cause now I don't have to ask you about it and then badger you for information or talking about your  _feelings_ ," he used air quotes very quickly, swaying into Derek for a moment, "and then I won't say the wrong shit and we won't fight. So good." There was an odd look on Derek's face and it took Stiles a few moments of inspection to realize the wolf was trying not to smile. "Cause you came in all growly and violent and I was just like 'yeah cool' and tilted my head back and then everything was okay." Stiles couldn't help his lips curving again. "Don't you remember, I mean it  _just_ happened. And anyways I'm going to remember that trick in the future, don't think I won't. Just roll over and play dead. You turn into a teddy bear."  
"I'm not going to kiss you again," Derek told him, hand sliding away, "you can calm down."

Derek took a few steps back as if to prove it and Stiles scoffed.  
"I am perfectly calm. I am Zen. I am the tai in chi okay."  
"You're a rabbit," Derek informed him. "With a runaway mouth." Stiles rolled his eyes. For the most part he was calm. Because he wasn't dealing with what had just happened. Not right now he wasn't.  
"Aren't you supposed to be going to work anyways?" Derek looked down before scratching the back of his neck quickly.  
"Yeah well…I'll just say I got a flat."  
"Glad you have a plan," Stiles told him.  
"I'll be back later," Derek said. Stiles nodded, forgoing a sarcastic comment about déjà vu.  
"I'll still be here so don't come back mad."  
"I'll try my best," Derek smirked, "just for you." Stiles leaned against the counter and fanned his face.  
"You will? Oh  _Mr. Hale_." For exactly three seconds the look on Derek's face was priceless.  
"Not funny," he announced, settling on a half decent glare.  
"I have it on good authority that I'm hilarious." The only answer was the door smacking closed. Stiles chuckled to himself before cleaning up in the kitchen.  _Distraction, distraction, distraction_.

He was fine for a few hours until he rolled his neck and saw red flecks fall onto his shirt. Holding his breath Stiles reached up tentatively, fingertips brushing against his throat. It was sore enough for him to wince, grunting slightly when he found a ridge of scab. Cursing silently Stiles climbed the stairs and headed for the bathroom, freezing when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He leaned closer without consciously making the decision to. Derek must have bit just hard enough to break the skin. Slanting across the front of his neck was an oval of red. Stiles wondered how much Derek had meant to do it as he peered at the mark. It looked like a warning sign. Like a claim. Right there on his skin. Of course Stiles should have stopped there. But being Stiles, he didn't. He started wondering. On some level Derek had meant to do it. But why mark him again when he was already claimed? Everyone here knew already that he belonged to Derek. So why mark him? Why do it unless he was trying to remind Stiles? "No," Stiles said to the mirror, frowning when his face didn't match the sentiment. "No," he repeated more firmly, pressing his lips together. He hadn't really  _meant_ to do it. It was his wolf. He hadn't expected Stiles to react that way. He'd said so himself. While he was kissing him. Stiles stared at his reflection, glaring accusingly.  _Why the hell did you just think about that? I said I wasn't going to think about it. I was doing so well_ not  _thinking about it and then there you go! But you are me and now I'm arguing with myself, literally my reflection. Oh god. This is how it ends._ Stiles shut his eyes and turned away from the mirror before leaving the bathroom, forcing himself not to touch his neck again as he did. They'd kissed. It wasn't a huge deal. Not a huge deal at all. Okay. He was fine. It wasn't like he'd never kissed anyone before. Except sometimes he argued with himself about whether or not a kiss during spin the bottle in sixth grade actually counted.  _It counted._ It counted because his first kiss was not going to be with Derek Hale. Derek had already gotten enough out of him. Mindy Cahill and her braces could keep Stiles' first kiss. The thought calmed him slightly, ridiculously, and Stiles pushed into the bedroom before flopping down on the bed. He didn't let himself move for a long time. Long enough that he began to feel like a dead body. With chalk outlines dancing around in his head Stiles finally pushed himself up. He needed distraction. He seriously needed distraction.

Unsurprisingly enough Stiles found himself in the library. He roamed along the shelves, letting his fingertips drift along spines every so often.  
"Stiles," Aiden greeted, making him jump, "how are you?" Stiles forced a smile as he shrugged.  
"Fine. How about you?"  
"Well," Aiden said simply, approaching slowly.  
"Cool," Stiles added after a moment.  
"How are you and Derek?" Stiles squinted at him then.  
"Did your dad send you? Did you follow me in here?"  
"No and no."  
"Oh." He honestly hadn't been expecting that. Aiden offered a small smile.  
"I'm just sort of used to trying to look out for pack." He leaned against a shelf before continuing. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want, but I know it worries my father and I'd like to try and ease whatever stress I can for him."  
"Why is Ross so worried?" Aiden was silent for a moment, as if weighing how to answer.  
"Shane is sort of…the center of our pack. Everyone likes him. It's sort of impossible not to like him. On the other side of that…no one really  _understands_ Derek. But Derek has made his home here. That makes him part my father's responsibility. He worries that it will come down to one or the other." Stiles mostly felt like he'd just been punched in the stomach.  
"Oh," was all he managed.  
"So when I say how are you and Derek what I actually mean is are you going to stay with him?" Stiles frowned slowly.  
"I wasn't really aware that I had a choice in the matter?"  
"There's always a choice. But you're in a rather unique position yourself. I suppose what I'm really asking is are you going to try and pit them against one another for your own escape?" Stiles gaped at him for what felt like a span of several minutes.  
"I-no." He shook his head. "No."  
"Good because it wouldn't work," Aiden told him. Stiles blinked a few times.  
"Are you alright?" Aiden looked past him.  
"Intuitive," he murmured quietly. Aiden smiled as he looked back. "I'm leaving soon," he revealed, "a pack in Montana. Old friends. Etcetera."

"I'm sorry."  
"You're the only one who's actually said it," Aiden murmured, running a hand through his hair. "In any case," he sighed, "I was going to tell you to give Derek time but I think you already mostly know."  
"Know what?" Stiles prompted when he didn't continue.  
"That he thinks he doesn't deserve you. That he won't try to keep you. Even if he wants to." Stiles must have looked affronted because Aiden continued quickly. "I'm not supposed to interfere but he was over last night and I just…feel for him."  
"He was at your place?" Stiles questioned, frowning.  
"He came to see my dad," Aiden corrected.  
"You still live with your dad?" Stiles asked then, still frowning. Aiden smiled, bitterly.  
"It's customary to live with your parents until you take your own mate." He hadn't known that.  
"But Derek…" he trailed, his mouth taking off without him once again.  
"Is remarkably well developed for how long he was on his own." The words sent a shiver over Stiles. "He won't talk about the time between home and coming here. My dad estimated five or six years."  
"But I thought you guys like…were meant to…live together," Stiles let out haltingly.  
"We are pack creatures. Yes."  
"Why was he alone?" Aiden looked away again.  
"They are not my secrets to tell."  
"But you're already here, doing this," Stiles protested.  
"Which I shouldn't be," Aiden reminded him. Stiles rolled his eyes.  
"Then why are you?"  
"You two have a chance," Aiden still wasn't looking at him, "it would be a shame to waste it."  
"But-"  
"I have to go," Aiden cut him off. "Just remember to try and be patient with him." He was gone unnaturally fast and Stiles huffed out a breath before settling his hands on his hips and biting down on his lip. Just what he needed. Another complication.

He left the library without any new books, going back and forth inside his head.  _Be patient with him._ Hadn't he been? Or had he been? He'd forgiven Derek after their fights. But had he really had a choice? Was he actually trying to understand his mate? Should he? When he was only going to leave in just under two months?  _Was he_? This voice was quieter than the rest and Stiles did his best to ignore it totally. There was too much going on. Stiles didn't even think he could compute it. Derek and Shane and Aiden and him and being the subject of gossip and thinking he should miss his life more than he did. Not to mention Derek's ever mysterious past, just looming. Stiles grunted to himself. What he needed was a plan. What he needed was less to deal with. Missing his life he couldn't do anything about. He was here now and that was all. He couldn't really do anything about gossip or himself either. Aiden was leaving so that was more or less going to take care of itself. That left Stiles with Shane and Derek. He stopped and set his hands on his hips before turning around, grimacing. Derek he couldn't deal with right now. Shane he could. He pushed away Derek's growled warning as he stalked towards the diner. Part of Stiles thought he should be preparing what he was going to say, some sort of speech or something but another part thought that would only make this worse than it already was. Everyone in the diner turned as he entered and Stiles had to take a deep breath. He met Shane's eyes as he hulked over the counter and Stiles grimaced again.  
"You overstepped your bounds," he said, fingers twitching nervously. "I'm Derek's mate and I want you to stay away from us. B-both of us." The stutter was tiny but Stiles still felt himself flush. The silence following his declaration was heavy and uncomfortable. Shane looked stunned at first but now it seemed like he wanted to say something. Stiles didn't want to hear it. He spun unevenly on one heel before shoving back out the door. He couldn't seem to catch his breath as he hurried back to Derek's house. He felt embarrassed and exposed, running a hand over his hair quickly. It was going to be all over the settlement. God he shouldn't have done that. Why did he do that? "Oh shit," he muttered to himself, nearly falling over a dip in the dirt. "Shit, shit,  _shit_." He tried to take deep breaths.

Reaching Derek's he slammed the door before leaning against it and trying again to catch his breath. His intentions were good. Yes. That was what he would focus on. And if Shane caused any more trouble now than there was no one to blame but Shane. Stiles had the feeling that he would back off. He hoped at least. The last thing Stiles needed was a second mate or either of them being kicked out of the settlement. His mind shifted then. Rather suddenly he went from wondering what on Earth Shane had been thinking to wondering how long Derek had been on his own. How had he survived? Why did he think he  _deserved_ to be alone? Did he leave his family? Or was he kicked out? Regardless of that what made him come here after being on his own? How desperate had he been? How much pain before he broke? Stiles' chest ached dully at the thought of Derek, younger, lost, and alone. With Aiden's explanation Ross' special treatment of Derek made sense. Stiles wondered what he'd been like when he first came. Had he not been able to fit? Or he hadn't wanted to? Told himself he didn't deserve to? Another pang in his chest and he sighed. What was he caught up in? It seemed every move he made only entangled him more. Stiles forced his eyes closed and took a breath so deep it actually hurt. He was fine. Everything was fine. He just needed to focus on him and Derek. That wouldn't be so hard; they'd just been stumbling through anyways. Everything was fine. With one more sigh he crossed to the futon and sank down. He had no idea what he was doing. He never had any idea what he was doing anymore. Stiles longed for his room suddenly. Painfully. The clutter and the dust bunnies. The unmade bed and clothing scattered floor. His desk where it always, always, looked like something had exploded. He rolled over in the limited space and shoved his face into the bend of the cushion. He hoped his father didn't go in. He hoped his father wasn't staying up nights trying to find him. But he probably did. He probably was. Stiles held his breath for several beats. He was fine. His father would be desperate to find him but he was a good cop. He wouldn't put himself at risk. He'd know that no one was going to look for Stiles as well as he was. But it would be fine. He'd be home soon. Maybe he could even convince Derek to drive him to another payphone so he could call again. All of this would just be a memory. He'd go home. He'd go back to school. Everything would go back to normal. Just like Derek had said.

Stiles read a book. Not that he remembered a word of it. Still it at least made him feel better to have his hands turning pages and giving his eyes something to look at. An engine cut just outside and Stiles dropped the second book, he hadn't been reading that one either. He hadn't managed to pick it up, or decided what he was going to do, before the door opened and Derek was inside. Derek offered him a small, relieved smile and then Stiles was crossing to him and throwing his arms around his neck.  
"You okay?" Derek whispered after a beat.  
"Yeah," Stiles answered eventually. He leaned on Derek's shoulder and sighed slowly. It felt really good just to have his body pressed against Derek's.  
"Did something happen?" Derek questioned next, his hand landing on the small of Stiles' back. He didn't press him closer, he didn't move at all. His hand simply rested on Stiles, as if this felt good to him too.  
"No…not really."  
"Okay." Silence fell but neither of them moved. When Stiles pulled back he avoided looking at Derek and crossed back to the futon, nearly tripping over the book still on the floor.  
"I have to tell you something," he admitted before risking a glance. Derek paused in the middle of taking off his jacket, eyebrows rising.  
"Alright," Derek agreed, still frozen. Stiles swallowed quickly, realizing quite suddenly that they'd made out earlier. And Derek had wolfed out. And bitten him. This was going to end badly. "What is it?" Derek pressed.  _Okay don't just blurt it out. You need to find a way to break this down gently so he doesn't chase you into the woods and maim you. Break it down. Break it down gently. You can do this. Breathe. Speak._  
"I went to see Shane." Derek blinked at him and Stiles panicked.  _Holy shit that wasn't gentle!_ "I-I mean I um went to the diner and uh talked to him because-because well not because you told me  _not_ to it was just that I was walking and thinking and then I just went and-" Derek's hand clapping over his mouth cut him off, thankfully.  
"That's fine," he said tersely. "I have no right to tell you who to see. I lost the handle I had on my wolf. It's fine. I'm sorry about your neck by the way."  
"What?" Stiles mumbled behind Derek's hand.  
"If you want to see Shane then you want to see him," Derek told him, pulling his hand away carefully and stepping back.

He took off his jacket and draped it over the banister. "I'm going to go take a shower okay?" Stiles felt himself frown.  
"I don't  _want_ to see Shane," Stiles protested slowly.  
"Okay," Derek said, climbing the first step. "That's fine. Whatever you want Stiles."  
"What? No. What just happened?" Instead of answering Derek disappeared up the steps. "I'm trying to talk to you!" Stiles yelled after him. Still no answer. Stiles was tempted to plop on the futon and wait for him but he'd only make it worse he was reasonably sure. So he followed Derek up. Derek pushed off the sink as he gracelessly shoved open the bathroom door.  
"What are you doing?" Derek asked slowly, carefully. Stiles realized for the first time that it was as if Derek was handling him with kid gloves.  
"I  _said_ I'm trying to talk to you," Stiles snapped. "I went to see Shane because I had to tell him to leave us alone I'm  _your_ mate and you guys can't fight anymore okay? Jesus." Derek blinked at him again.  
"What?"  
"I didn't want you to hear it from someone else. There were other people there when it happened," Stiles explained impatiently.  
"You told Shane you were mine?  _Publicly_?"  
"Didn't I just say that?" Stiles was set to launch into a clearer version of the story when Derek's sharp inhale cut him off. Derek's eyes closed and his hands curled at his sides. "Uh…Derek?" Derek didn't answer. He didn't move at all other than to breathe. He kept dragging in sharp inhales and letting them out silently. Stiles might have wondered how he was doing it if he wasn't so confused, quickly giving way to terrified. Derek growled, cutting it off as Stiles' breath caught. Stiles was just about to start breathing again when Derek growled again. "Are you okay?" he asked quickly with his limited supply of oxygen. Derek didn't answer and Stiles backed up half a step. Derek's eyes flew open. They were blue. Stiles was not comforted by the re-appearance of Derek's wolf. At all.  
" _Don't_ ," he growled in the voice that wasn't quite his.  
"Don't what?" Stiles squeaked. Officially out of air.  
"Don't run. It's an invitation." Stiles couldn't help a quick full body shudder. He inhaled quickly.  
"No running. Got it." Derek's eyes closed again.  
"Just  _give me a minute_."

Stiles was reasonably sure his heart was going to explode into a frothy mess but he forced himself to remain still. He had a feeling if he ran he wouldn't get far and he was not adding sex in public to his list that so far only contained sex in the woods.  _What's so wrong with beds?_ He bit his lip and started counting, loosing count three times, never making it past seventy, before Derek spoke. "I'm fine," he said slowly. "We're good."  
"Are you sick or something?" Stiles blurted. Derek smiled and holy crap that scared him even more.  
"Just…frustrated. Glad you cleared that up. I'm going to take my shower."  
"You're acting weird," Stiles told him, squinting.  
"Stiles," Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed and dropped his hand. "I'm horny," he said plainly. "The full moon passed and we didn't have sex. That doesn't mean the urges went away. It makes it harder for me to stay in control." Stiles half wished he was angled towards the mirror so he could see his face. Pieces started clicking into place.  
"But when you came back," he started to argue.  
"You were emotionally distressed. And  _Shane_." Derek growled around the name and Stiles cringed. Derek shook his head once. "There were other things to focus on."  
"So if the urges don't go away…" Stiles trailed off, cheeks heating.  
"I'm going to take my shower," Derek said again, deliberately.  
" _Oh_ ," was out before Stiles could stop it. Then he saluted before backing out of the bathroom as fast as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done transferring! Now I can write..


	11. Warm Me Like the Sun

Stiles shut the door firmly, trying not to listen for the inevitable hiss of the water starting.  It came before he'd reached the bed and a tremor worked up his arm, settling into his shoulder.  It was a bit impossible not to think about it but he scooped a book off the floor anyway.  For a moment he looked at the rest of the books scattered on the floor.  He should probably try to clean them up.  Maybe tomorrow.  He sort of liked how they were now.  It reminded him of his room.  Just a little.  Plus Derek wasn't complaining so there really wasn't any reason for him to worry about it.  Stiles' eyes scanned over words without taking them in and he was fifteen pages into the book before he realized again that he wasn't actually paying attention to what he was doing.  He needed to focus here.  He needed to give himself something to focus on so he didn't focus on what was going on just down the hall.  Closing his eyes briefly he flipped the book closed and started over.  Stiles skimmed the first page twice, starting over again each time.  After a quick mental pep talk and an even quicker meditation session he started the book yet again.  He was on page 34 when the door creaked open gently. 

Derek didn’t say anything for so long Stiles finally glanced up.  
             "Are you just going to loom there all night?" he questioned, looking back to the book.  Derek was still dripping wet, shirt sticking to him, and the book was so much safer.    
            "I don't have any immediate plans," Derek said softly.  _Not anymore_ Stiles added mentally.    
            "Well…" he drifted for a moment, "I'm reading."  Derek didn't say anything for so long that Stiles snuck a glance just to be sure he was still there.  He was.  Frowning slightly.    
            "Can I…join you?" he questioned hesitantly.    
            "Yeah I-um yeah."  Derek stepped in and closed the door behind him, sitting on the edge of the bed.  He paused there, as if making sure it was okay, before sliding into the bed and laying back.  Stiles turned back to his book, cheeks heating.  When had it gotten this awkward?  They'd shared the bed before.  They'd all but cuddled on the futon before.  But then Stiles remembered Derek's _shower_.  Of course.  His cheeks grew hotter.    
            "I haven't scented you in a while," Derek told him softly.  Stiles felt his eyes widen as he tried to focus on breathing in and out.  This wasn't werewolf flirting was it?  He tried to dismiss the thought.  Of course it wasn't.  Of course not. 

Derek wasn't going to try and take it any further.  No.  His wolf was the one that wanted sex.  His wolf was the shifty one.  This was human Derek and he was fine.  He was just going to scent him.  Only as much contact as needed and then it would be over and they could even read together while they did it.  _Holy shit I'm freaking out right now._ Derek was apparently done waiting on him because Stiles was lifted by the waist, body tensing in shock.  Derek laid Stiles over himself easily, tucking his head on Stiles' shoulder.  Stiles gave a squeak as Derek wriggled a bit to settle.  "Relax," Derek murmured, hands settling on either side of Stiles' ribcage.  Stiles scoffed, gripping the book too tightly.  "The wolf is safely put away," Derek continued softly, "I'm not going to chase you into the woods and-mm."    
            "What is it with you and the woods?" Stiles demanded.  "You know most humans don't want to be bent over a tree right?  I mean imagine the scraping!"  Derek nipped the back of his neck, making Stiles squawk.    
            "I'm not going to do anything in here either.  Just calm down."    
            "Well it's a little h-difficult to calm down."    
            "I _promise_ I won't do anything."  But just the way Derek's voice dropped as he said 'promise' had Stiles' heart thumping harder.    
            "Already doing things," Stiles mumbled petulantly.    
            "Am I bothering you?" Derek questioned, voice going lower and staying there.    
            "Oh my god you're doing that on purpose," Stiles accused, stomach twisting.    
            "Doing what?"  
    
            "I hate you," Stiles informed him, shoving his face in his book.    
            "I'm not doing anything," Derek argued, sounding too amused to be wholly innocent.    
            "You can't be t-talking to me like that when I'm lying on top of you," Stiles said in one huge rush.    
            "Turnabout's fair play."    
            "Turnabout for _what_?" Stiles demanded, incredulous.    
            "You can't be serious," Derek said after a pause.    
            "I do not even know what you're talking about right now and I am almost sure that it's not because I'm on top of you." 

Derek was silent a long moment.    
            "You really don't know," he let out finally.    
            "Don't know _what_?"    
            "Nothing," Derek's hands slipped away, "read your book."  Stiles was shocked still for several moments, finally twisting to look back at him.    
            "You can't just…you can't just start a conversation and then back out like that."    
            "Read your book," Derek repeated.  Stiles huffed quickly.  
            "You can't tell me I don't know something and then stop talking about it."  Derek didn't respond, looking past him.  "I'm serious," Stiles protested.  Again, Derek didn't respond.  Stiles turned back to the book, maybe accidentally elbowing Derek on the way.  He was so irritated he ranted in his head, flipping pages every minute or so.  He didn't speak to Derek again or actually stop to wonder what he could have meant.  He reached the end of the book before there was another word between them.  Stiles looked back to see Derek's eyes closed.  He slid off gently, setting the book on the floor.  After flicking off the light he climbed back in carefully, breath catching when Derek curved around him.  Was it an apology?  Or was he asleep? 

            "Derek?"    
            "Go to sleep."  Stiles smiled softly.  Derek's own special form of apology then.    
            "Maybe I'm already sleeping," he murmured, closing his eyes.    
            "Maybe you're a terrible liar."    
            "Am not."    
            "I can still hear your heart."    
            "Not my fault you're a freak."    
            "Am not."  Stiles smiled despite himself.    
            "You argue like a third grader.  You know that."    
            "At least I wasn't in third grade recently."    
            "Probably stalked a third grader recently."    
            "I don't stalk-"  
            "You loom well enough."  
            "Stalking implies no course of action.  I _hunt_."    
            "And I mourn for the squirrels.  Truly."  Derek laughed once, quietly.    
            "You're ridiculous," Derek breathed, leaning closer.    
            "I know."  Stiles grinned at the admission, remarkably unbothered by Derek's face centimeters from his.    
            "Goodnight."  He hadn't been expecting that.  Lips relaxing he licked them before answering.  
            "Goodnight." 

He woke up on Derek's chest, right hand caught under his bicep.  His mouth felt loose and Stiles blinked several times before seeing the damp spot on Derek's shirt.  He tugged on his hand, groaning when it didn't slip free.    
            "Mm," Derek mumbled, turning onto his side and successfully displacing Stiles.  Stiles groaned again and sat up.  It was another few minutes before, "Why am I wet?"    
            "I don't know why you expect me to know," Stiles mumbled before escaping the room.  Splashing water on his face in the bathroom only did so much and Stiles' mind still felt thick with sleep when he ambled down the stairs towards the kitchen.  He was surprised to find the space empty, though it wasn't long before Derek joined him.    
            "How do you like your eggs?"    
            "Uh," Stiles paused, thrown by the offer, "scrambled."    
            "How many?"  
            "Three," Stiles leaned against the fridge and watched, squinted really, as Derek pulled out a skillet and went to the stove.    
            "Can you get me the eggs?" Derek questioned, smiling as he turned.    
            "Eggs," Stiles echoed quietly, "yeah."  Derek was…different this morning.  Sort of smiley and weird.  He turned and opened the fridge as he tried to define it.  Derek crossed to him, slipping out butter and tugging the carton of eggs from his hand. 

Stiles let the door swing closed and leaned against it again.  Derek seemed sort of…almost…content.  "You're making me breakfast," he commented.  He really couldn't help saying it out loud.    
            "I'm making breakfast.  You just happen to be here cupcake."  It actually _sounded_ like Derek was smiling.  Maybe he just needed to take showers more often.    
            "Cupcake?" Stiles questioned, his lips curling.    
            "It still suits you."  Stiles laughed to himself.  After a moment he realized he didn't have a term for when Derek _wasn't_ glaring.  _Cupcake_.  It sounded pretty happy.    
            "I still have a name that you still hardly use."    
            "Stiles is your last name," Derek said, cracking eggs into a bowl he'd pulled down.  "You haven't told me your real name."  That pulled him up short.    
            "Everyone calls me Stiles," he tried to explain, "my dad even calls me Stiles."    
            "It's fine," Derek told him, offering half a smile.    
            "It's not a big deal," Stiles added, the words sticking in his throat a bit.    
            "It's really fine.  You want to get the door?"  Stiles was about to question him when someone knocked.  He froze with his mouth half open and Derek smirked at him.  Stiles pulled a face before turning and crossing the living room to pull the door open.  Taylor, Aubrey, and Chase were all crowded in the doorway, the three of them smiling at him.    
            "Uh…hey guys.  What's up?"    

Aubrey was quick to explain that they were going shopping and Stiles was invited.    
            "Derek can come too," she offered belatedly, "if he wants."    
            "You're not eating in my car," Derek called from the kitchen.    
            "We were just having breakfast," Stiles added, "but I think that's a yes."    
            "Breakfast?" Taylor frowned, "Dude it's like one in the afternoon."    
            "Brunch then," Stiles corrected easily.  "Were you leaving now?"    
            "We can wait for you guys," Chase said, smirking at him.  Stiles frowned slightly back, feeling like he was missing half the conversation.  "Half an hour then," Chase added, taking Aubrey's hand, "see you two."    
            "Okay," Stiles agreed slowly.  Taylor laughed quickly before following after them and Stiles closed the door.  He paused a moment before going back to the kitchen.  "So that was weird."    
            "Was it?"    
            "You should have seen the way they were looking at me," Stiles informed him, wincing.  "Like they all know something I don't." 

Derek adjusted the skillet.  
            "Plates?"  Stiles crossed behind him to get to the cabinet.  
            "You think they're planning something?  Is this an ambush?"    
            "You're paranoid," Derek chuckled.  "Chase is having a kid, Aubrey is too obviously, and Taylor's excited that he and Brennan made things official."  
            "Made things o-what?"    
            "They completed the mating.  Recently."    
            "How do you know that?" Stiles questioned, nose wrinkling.    
            "I could smell it from here," Derek answered simply.    
            "Stalker," Stiles offered as he handed over the plates.  Derek's smile was all teeth.  

Stiles' eyebrows rose as Derek scooped eggs that actually looked really good onto each plate.  "I thought you couldn't cook," he challenged.  Derek leaned back against the counter.  
            "I never said I couldn't cook.  Don't burn your tongue, it's hot."  Stiles dropped the piece of egg back to his plate and waved his singed fingers through the air.    
            "Well seeing as there was no food in the fridge, at all, and dust bunnies gathered in all the burners, I just assumed."    
            "You assumed wrong," Derek told him smugly.  Stiles stuck out his tongue, nearly screaming when Derek stabbed a fork into his eggs.    
            "You are so wrong," Stiles told him, eyes narrowed.    
            "Eat your food, we have places to be."  Stiles carefully blew on a bite of egg before putting it in his mouth, raising an eyebrow when he caught Derek staring at his mouth.    
            "They're good," Stiles told him, frowning again when Derek turned away.    
            "You can't eat if you're talking," Derek informed him.    
            "Yeah I can," Stiles mumbled around another bite.    
            "Stop wasting time or I'll take them from you."  Stiles laughed once, which in retrospect, was probably a mistake.    
            "Got ninja skills," Stiles mumbled, mouth full again.  Derek turned slowly, eyes narrowed and lips pinched thin.    
            "Last chance."    
            "What?" Stiles demanded, "What are you gonna do?"  He cut off a huge chunk before sucking it into his mouth and chewing.  Derek set his plate on the counter carefully before smiling for just a second. 

Stiles turned too late, Derek getting a hand on his plate and tugging.  "Nn-" Stiles tried to protest, nearly choking on the egg in his mouth.    
            "I warned you," Derek said, the words ghosting over the back of his neck.  Stiles swallowed quickly before gripping his fork and poking Derek in the side.    
            "Don't make me stab you.  My food."    
            "I bought it, I made it.  My food."    
            "But I'm your mate.  What's yours is mine.  Ha."    
            "Only when I'm feeling generous," Derek growled over the words, tugging on the plate again.    
            " _Derek_ ," Stiles whined.  "I'm _hungry_ and I'm a growing boy okay?"    
            "Then you should be eating."    
            "I am."  Stiles took another bite to prove it.  Derek pulled the plate free, smirking when Stiles pouted.  He kept the expression for a few moments before a plan formed in his head.  Trying to make it look casual he shifted to the side and leaned against the counter.  "Derek," he murmured, "can I have my breakfast back…please?"  He tilted his head back and exposed his throat, swallowing as they broke eye contact.    
  
            "Don't expect that to keep working," Derek growled before pushing the plate into his chest.    
            "Expect what to keep working?" Stiles questioned innocently, smiling at him.    
            "Eat," Derek snapped, " _now_."    
            "Grumpy.  Do you need another shower?"  Derek's fork clattered to the floor.    
            "You are not funny," he said carefully.    
            "I think you mean very funny."    
            "I don't," Derek assured him, grabbing his plate and eating with his fingers.    
            "I think I'm funny," Stiles continued.    
            "Keep playing with fire," Derek muttered after a moment, "you'll find yourself bent over a tree."  Stiles' jaw dropped open, thankfully the bit of egg dropped onto his plate.    
            "Okay _that_ is not funny," he let out, cheeks burning.    
            "Now I guess that just depends on who you ask."  Derek paused long enough to smile at him, somehow amused and threatening at the same time, before slipping another hunk of egg between his lips.    
            "I don't think it's funny and seeing as I would be bent over the tree my opinion is pretty important."  Derek appeared to consider this.    
            "Nah I don't think it really matters."  Stiles pulled off some egg before throwing it at him.    
            "Don't be a shitty mate."    
            "I'm the best one you've got."    
            "You're the only one I've got," Stiles corrected automatically.  Derek paused a significant moment.    
            "Yeah," he let out softly.  Stiles threw another bite of egg at him before picking his fork back up.

Something had changed.  Something had definitely changed.  Stiles couldn't really figure out what it was, all he knew was that things were suddenly easier.  He watched Derek as he pulled on his jacket, tried to keep his face blank as he thought.  He was half dying to ask.  More terrified to bring it up.  He mostly thought it wasn't anything he'd done.  Maybe it was the bond?  Working its magic without either of them actually knowing?  But maybe it was Derek.  Whatever he and Ross had talked about the other night.  What if it was that?  Better yet, why was Stiles questioning it?  This was a good thing.  He could feel that.  So why exactly was he questioning it?    
            "Ready?" Derek questioned, turning back to him.  Stiles smiled.  
            "Yeah, let's go."  Derek pulled open the door and held it; Stiles tried his best to kill his blush before stepping out.    
            "I wanna ride with you guys," Taylor said, leaning against the trunk of Derek's car.  "They're being…" he wrinkled his nose, "Harlequin."    
            "They're being what?" Derek demanded.    
            "Harlequin," Stiles repeated, turning to explain, "paperback romance novels.  Usually titled something like _A Father for Baby_ or _Passion's Embrace_."    
            "Romance novels," Derek said haltingly, as if totally oblivious to the idea of them.    
            "They usually feature a woman past her prime horrified of wearing mom jeans."    
            "I really hope you're joking," Derek replied, eyebrows pushed up.    
            "Partly," Stiles offered with a smile.  He turned back to Taylor.  "I guess you can ride with us.  But just so you know he did threaten to bend me over a tree just a few minutes ago."  Taylor snorted.    
            "You're sort of a horrible person Stiles."    
            "I am just letting you know, Derek may be unable to resist me."    
            "Yeah well the backseat is already taken.  So I guess you two will have to find a tree after all."  Stiles grimaced again at the thought, Taylor laughing loudly in response.    
            "I'm going to regret agreeing to this aren't I?" Derek questioned over the roof.    
            "Probably," Stiles admitted.  
            "Definitely," Taylor disagreed. 

During the drive Stiles found Taylor's first fault.  Country music.  Both Stiles and Derek shot him down immediately, which prompted,   
            "Brennan lets me listen to country," from Taylor.    
            "Brennan's your mate," Derek returned, "he'll let you do anything you want."    
            "Would you let me listen to country?" Stiles questioned, lips pursed.  
            "No," Derek answered immediately.  
            "But what if I loved it?"    
            "No."  
            "But I'm your mate."  
            "But it's hypothetical and I find the continued references dogs annoying and sort of insulting."    
            "Hey dogs are a man's best friend," Taylor argued.    
            "Dude back off the dog stuff," Stiles warned.  
            "I'm not calling him a dog I'm just saying dogs in general are man's best friend.  And puppies are cute."    
            "One dog joke and I almost got my hand bitten off," Stiles grumbled.    
            "The twang," Derek continued, wincing, "and the banjos.  Dear god who even invented those?"    
            "How do you know so much about it if you hate it?"    
            "Hating it doesn't mean I haven't had to listen to it."  Stiles had a feeling there was a story there.  He also had a feeling Derek wasn't about to offer it up. 

He turned to look at Taylor.  
            "So I heard you and Brennan made it official?"  Taylor froze with his mouth open, eyes widening ever so slightly.  After another moment he flushed and looked down.    
            "Y-Yeah," he let out.    
            "So you're staying," Stiles prompted.    
            "Is that what that means?" Taylor asked dryly.    
            "Is it amazing?  Does he make your stomach flutter?  Do his eyes make it look like the stars aren't shining?"  Taylor flushed deeper, looking out the window instead of answering.    
            "It does mean you're the last unmated pair in the settlement."    
            "Let's keep the gloves above the belt shall we?" Stiles fired back before biting the inside of his cheek.    
            "Well I would appreciate if you could not tease me about Bren yeah?"    
            "Teasing is my default setting, why do you think Derek bit me?"    
            "That looks more like a hickey than a bite, just so you know." 

Stiles felt himself blushing then.  
            "Why do I have a feeling that neither of us is going to win this conversation?"    
            "But it's so entertaining," Derek told them.    
            "Entertain yourself," Stiles snapped in response.    
            "Are you two always like this?" Taylor interrupted.  
            "No."  
            "Mostly," Derek said.    
            "You're like an old-"  
            " _Don't_ say it," Stiles cut him off, gripping the edge of his seat.    
            "Married couple," Taylor finished with a satisfied expression.  Stiles huffed in irritation as Taylor laughed and Derek smiled.    
            "Traitor," Stiles muttered, glaring at Derek.    
            "You need to get laid," Taylor told him on another laugh.    
            "I will shove you out of this car," Stiles told him, "and then Derek will run you over."    
            "No he won't cause he knows I'm right."  Derek was mysteriously silent and Stiles was suddenly desperate for a change of topic.    
            "I liked you better when you didn't talk," Stiles told him, eyes narrowed.    
            "But werewolf stamina is amazing," Taylor continued, entirely unbothered, "they can just keep going and _going_.  It's like Brennan doesn't even have an off switch.  One day I couldn't even walk but god it was _so_ worth it."    
            "I seriously liked you better when you didn't talk."  Stiles spun the volume knob until the music was too loud for casual conversation and Derek shot him a look that was bordering on grateful.

Stiles was probably too relieved when they arrived in a town and got out of the car.  He didn't care.    
            "Hey," Chase called, hand joined with Aubrey's as they approached.  "Looks like there's some sort of festival on."    
            "Like you didn't know," Aubrey cut in, smacking him lightly with her free hand.  Chase half smiled, showing off one dimple.    
            "Maybe," he let out.    
            "So there's a shit ton of people?" Stiles hazarded.    
            "Pretty much," Chase admitted.  He looked to Derek.  
            "Did you know?" he questioned quietly.    
            "No."  Stiles let out a relieved breath.    
            "Looks like a lot of art," Aubrey offered, "all sorts of handmade stuff."    
            "Sounds cool," Stiles offered, jumping slightly when Derek's hand slid into his.  Chase's eyes tracked the movement but he didn't comment.  In the back of his mind Stiles knew it was purely a logical move on Derek's part.  Still…he was glad it went unmentioned.  Taylor started walking towards all the tents and Aubrey followed, falling in beside him.  Chase seemed perfectly happy on her other side.  Stiles waited until they were a few feet away before looking to Derek.  "I'm not going to try to run you know."  Derek's face remained expressionless.  
            "I know.  I'd just prefer to keep you close."  He probably meant that in a purely logical way too.

Stiles had never really held someone's hand before.  He wasn't sure how the action seemed so casual when it felt so intimate.  Their fingers weren't twined, simply curled around their palms, which were firmly sandwiched together.  Derek didn't release him as they entered the first row of tents and Stiles was okay with that but then he saw some dragons.    
            "Look at those," he let out, more or less diving through people to cross the aisle.  Derek's hand released his and Stiles glanced back quickly before continuing on.  The entire tent was dragons.  Dragons of all colors, made from glass and rope, paintings and vases.  "These are so _cool_ ," he sighed, smiling as Derek joined him.    
            "I am assuming you know the definition of close," Derek murmured.    
            "I got excited," Stiles said with a sheepish smile.  He reached out towards a glass dragon, glaring when Derek grabbed his wrist.  
            "I'm not paying for anything you break."    
            "I wasn't gonna break it," Stiles protested with a huff.    
            "Why don't you go look at the unbreakable ones?  The ones the kids are playing with?"  Derek nudged him towards the rope dragons and after a moment Stiles went, nose in the air.  He picked up a black dragon, winding its long body around his wrist and running his fingers over the flame colored burst at the end of its tail.  It was kind of amazing the way the rope was twisted together and his eyes traced the pattern as he turned his wrist in different directions.  "There's tons more stuff to see," Derek told him.  Stiles rolled his eyes and unwound the dragon.  He set it back on the shelf before patting its head with a fingertip.    
            "You're no fun," he informed Derek as they exited the tent, Derek taking his hand again.  
            "You have no money to spend," Derek reminded him.    
            "I can still shop."  Stiles didn't tell Derek that he was used to not having money.  What money he did manage to scrounge up went towards fixing up his baby or into his baby's gas tank, either way it didn't leave any money in his pocket. 

As the day wore on Stiles felt more and more like he, Derek, and Taylor were all third wheels to Aubrey and Chase.  Half the time it seemed like the two were in their own little world and more than once Stiles saw Chase's hand on Aubrey's stomach.  While Stiles wouldn't describe them as Harlequin he could see Taylor's point.  It was vaguely nauseating.  In addition to that Stiles had to get used to Derek invading his personal space.  He was all but glued to Stiles as he wandered around.  In fact, Derek only loomed closer when Stiles was near something fragile.  The breaking point, literally, was when Derek crowded Stiles into a corner, making Stiles flail into the wall of the tent.  There was a crash on the other side of the tarp and they both froze before Stiles smacked Derek in the chest.    
            "That was your fault," he hissed, tempted to smack him again.  Derek rolled his eyes quickly before making his way out of the tent.  Stiles followed, somewhat morbidly curious to see the damage.  A huge vase was in pieces on the ground.    
            "Well that's sort of a relief," a woman with gray streaks and tiny round glasses was saying.    
            "I'm so sorry," Derek said, charm turned on, "I'm afraid I knocked my boyfriend into it."  She looked past Derek then, smiling wryly as Stiles flushed and scratched the back of his neck.  
            "Sorry," he mumbled.  
            "Oh it's alright sweetie.  It wasn't my favorite piece and it's a pain in the ass hauling it from show to show."    
            "He'll pay for it," Stiles offered, pointing to Derek.  She laughed then, covering her mouth with one hand.  
            "It was $745."    
            "Do you take Visa?" Derek questioned after an awkward pause.    
            "Pay for the clay and glaze we'll call it even," she said.  "Follow me."  Derek followed after her and Stiles felt just a bit guilty. 

            "She was nice," he offered tentatively when Derek reappeared.    
            "Let's go get lunch before you break something else."    
            "Um we both broke that, I am just putting that out there."  Derek didn't answer, taking his hand and tugging him along instead.    
            "We're getting lunch," Derek said as they walked and Stiles was left to assume he was speaking to Chase.    
            "So how much was it?" Stiles questioned, trying to figure out if Derek was angry.    
            "Maybe half a paycheck," Derek returned, "not a big deal."    
            "Are you mad?"    
            "No," he smiled ruefully, "it was sort of my fault."  Stiles blinked twice.  
            "I can't believe you just admitted that."    
            "What are you hungry for?"  Stiles mind went blank as he had the thought that this was sort of like a date.  An awkward date sure but a date all the same.  "Earth to Stiles, what do you want for lunch?"    
            "Food," Stiles answered simply, mustering a smile.    
            "I think we can manage that," Derek replied, smiling shortly. 

Soon enough they were at a picnic table underneath an umbrella, burgers and fries in front of them.  Stiles couldn't help his nose wrinkling at the very pink center of Derek's burger.    
            "Did they even cook that?" he questioned, picking up a fry.    
            "Would have been better off just searing it," Derek said without missing a beat.    
            "Meat is supposed to be cooked," Stiles informed him.  "There's bacteria in that.  Alive and well.  Crawling all up in it."    
            "I don't get sick."    
            "You can't properly digest it; it just sits in your intestinal tract.  Your intestines are filled with bacteria."  
            "First, that's a myth.  Second, my stomach acid takes care of bacteria.  Finally, I didn't know you were so interested in my intestines Stiles."  Stiles frowned at him.  
            "That just…that is so not where I was going with that.  Ew.  Derek.  Ew."  Derek smirked.  "I'm eating," Stiles complained.  
            "You started it," Derek said easily.    
            "You're still arguing like a third grader."  Stiles averted his eyes as Derek took an overly large bite of his burger.  Stiles' eyes were skating casually over the crowd until they hooked on a man looking straight at him.  Stiles blinked once, twice, but no he was still looking.  He wasn't just _looking_ he was actually like…it felt like he was being stalked.  Which was ridiculous of course.  It was just a guy in the crowd.  Right?    
            "What's wrong?" Derek questioned quietly, suddenly serious.    
            "This guy," Stiles let out, turning to Derek and trying not to shiver.    
            "What guy?"    
            "Right near the edge of the tents," Stiles told him, watching Derek's eyes cut through the crowd, "looking right this way…creepy as fuck." 

Each second that passed only worried Stiles further.  He wasn't sure how long it was before Derek looked back.  
            "We should go."  
            "Why?  He creeps you out too?"    
            "I don’t see anyone.  We should go."  Stiles jerked too look and sure enough, he was gone.    
            "But he was just…right there."    
            "You done eating?  Let's get out of here."    
            "Uh yeah I guess," Stiles watched as Derek stood up and gathered their half eaten meals.  "But…he's not even there anymore.  Why are we leaving?"  Derek jerked to a stop and looked at him, one eyebrow spiked.    
            "Because you said he was staring straight at us.  You've got a bite on your throat.  You should trust your instincts."    
            "What about the others?"    
            "I'll call Chase.  At least they can blend."    
            "Well I didn't bite me," Stiles mumbled.  Derek half smiled before sobering.    
            "Even now, you're ridiculous."    
            "Maybe I like being ridiculous."    
            "Be ridiculous in the car."  Derek dumped their food before taking Stiles' hand once again and pulling him along. 

Making it back to the car hardly seemed to relax Derek and he glanced around before rounding the car and getting in.  Stiles thought his eyes were blue but he blinked and it was gone.  He gunned the engine before swerving onto the street so quickly the tires squealed.  Stiles turned to buckle, freezing as he glanced the same man through the window.  This time he was _smiling_.    
            "Derek," he whispered as his voice failed him.    
            "Where?" Derek demanded.  By the time Stiles pointed the space was empty.    
            "He's gone again," he said shakily.    
            "It's gonna be okay, we're already gone."  Stiles knew Derek was going way too fast.  He didn't complain, he just closed his eyes.  It was a long time before Derek spoke.  "No one's following us.  We'll be back to the settlement in less than twenty minutes."  Stiles sighed and let his shoulders slump.  
            "Yeah okay."    
            "Did you recognize him?"  Stiles was shaking his head before Derek had finished the question.    
            "Do you think he was looking for me?"    
            "No," Derek answered, "he would have come right up and taken you."    
            "So then…?"  Stiles' heart was racing and he couldn't catch his breath.  The idea of being taken from Derek horrified him.    
            "Could have been a hunter.  Could have been a wolf that wanted you for himself."    
            "A hunter?"    
            "People that hunt us for being monsters," Derek explained quickly.    
            "Seems more likely than another wolf," Stiles said after a moment.    
            "How so?" 

Stiles stared at him for a few moments.  Eventually he lifted an arm to gesture to himself.    
            "You already claimed me.  Then there was the whole Shane debacle.  Don't try to tell me I'm gay werewolf catnip cause I'm not buying."  Derek's lips twitched and he shook his head.  
            "Ridiculous."    
            "Wolfnip?"  That earned him another lip twitch and Stiles felt a bit better.    
            "It may just be a case of you not fully being claimed and him wanting to claim you himself, just to have you."    
            "Like a trophy mate?" Stiles winced.  "Sounds creepy."    
            "I would never let that happen."  Stiles felt something in his chest squeeze and his hands curled around themselves.    
            "Well thanks for getting me out of there."  Derek looked away from the road, meeting his eyes.  
            "Thanks for wanting me to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why that last line kills me.   
> Probably because it's so late and I'm already super emotional.  
> But I wasn't blocked which is just wonderful.  
> I also want to say thank you for all the amazing amazing support this fic is getting.  
> I really can't even. Especially with all this transferring bullshit.  
> So thank you all.   
> Also there was supposed to be smut this time but it just…well idk I guess I'm more of a tease than I even realize. However I'm really really thinking next time it is going to happen.   
> Hopefully.  
> Also I just wrote this really really fast partly as a thank you and I just hope it's okay and that you can over look my mistakes which I know are there.  
> One last time thank you. I'm done blathering on now.  
> Promise.


	12. Won't You Let Me In?

            "I'll be right in," Derek told him, finally pulling to a stop just outside his house.  "I need to call Chase and tell him what happened."    
            "Okay," Stiles agreed quietly, climbing out of the car.  Derek waited a few moments, half debating if he should tell Ross, just in case.  Calling Chase and looking after Stiles were more important, he'd decide about Ross later.  He dialed Chase before leaning against the steering wheel.    
            "Oh hey Hale, where'd you and Stiles get to?"    
            "We left," Derek answered, wincing at how it sounded when it came out.  "Someone was staring at Stiles and he had the bite so…thought it'd be best if we headed out."  Chase was silent a beat.    
            "I would love to say something about you being paranoid or overprotective but if it was Aubrey I'd probably do the same."    
            "You have to protect your own."    
            "So do you."  Derek scoffed slightly.  
            "It's not the same."    
            "Really?  You two seemed awfully comfortable today."    
            "We were," Derek admitted.    
            "Holding hands," Chase continued, "wandering off on your own.  I heard the 'boyfriend' thing, don't think I didn't."  Derek pulled the phone from his mouth before sighing.  "Did you finally decide you wanted to keep him?"    
            "You make it sound like he's a pet to be kept."    
            "You know what I mean."  Another pause of silence and Derek thought this was the longest conversation he and Chase had ever had. 

            "It would be okay," Chase murmured, "if you tried to.  Keep him I mean."    
            "No it wouldn't.  He has a father to get back to."    
            "Aubrey has a family too.  We're working on it."    
            "Aubrey is completely in love with you.  Not to mention the pup."    
            "Stiles could fall in love with you too."  A sharp laugh pulled out of his lips and Derek bit down on it, free hand curling over the steering wheel in a reflexive action.    
            "No he couldn't."  That was exactly why things had been so easy today.  Because Derek had finally realized there was no getting too close.  Stiles wasn't going to fall in love with him.  It was a temporary situation and soon enough it would be over.  Things would go back to normal.    
            "Don't be so sure.  When he was scared what's the first thing he did?"    
            "His breathing sped up and I asked what was wrong.  He didn't do anything."    
            "But he went with you.  When it very well could have been someone looking for him."    
            "They would have been in uniform, Stiles knows that."    
            "Could have been a private detective.  Point is he let you protect him."    
            "He didn't know anyone else there so I'm better than some guy staring at him creepily.  Well made point Chase."    
            "He let you protect him," Chase repeated, "just think about it Hale."    
            "No it was just-"  The line went dead and Derek pulled his phone down before staring at it.  So Stiles went with him and let him protect him.  He knew that.  But that didn't mean anything.  It just meant Stiles trusted Derek more than a stranger.  That didn't even mean he trusted him. 

He sighed before getting out of his car and heading inside.  Stiles was sitting on the futon, fingers drumming over his knee furiously.    
            "You okay?"  Stiles' fingers hesitated before continuing.  
            "Y-Yeah.  Fine."  Derek frowned.  
            "You don't have to lie Stiles."    
            "I just-I-" he gave a helpless little shrug before falling silent again.  Derek crossed to the futon and sat before pulling Stiles close.    
            "It's okay.  I won't let anything happen to you."    
            "No I just I'm sure it wasn't a hunter because he moved too fast and there was nothing outwardly threatening I mean he smiled the second time so I just think he was just not trying to be creepy but I think I think that I fucked up."  Derek was used to Stiles' mouth going a mile a minute by now but the last three words seemed to crash through the air.    
            "What do you mean?" he questioned, cutting Stiles off.    
            "I," he paused and made a quiet, unhappy sound, "I had the thought that he might take me away from you and I just it was horrible.  It was horrible to think that.  And I don't like to think about leaving you and that can't happen.  That can't happen because I have to leave.  We're not-  We aren't I mean we're just friends."  He paused again, head dipped, "We just hang out," he said in a small voice.  Derek was frozen.  He didn't know what to do.  Stiles sounded honestly upset by the fact that nothing was happening between them.  Except nothing could happen.  Hadn't they agreed on that? 

His fingers skated over Stiles' shoulder as he tried to think.  He didn't know what to say.  Were there even words that could make this better?     
            "It'll be alright," he offered softly.  After another moment he pulled Stiles into his lap, sighing when Stiles curled against him, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket and shirt.  "Everything that's happening, everything that you're feeling…it's only temporary."    
            "I fucked up," Stiles repeated on a whisper.  "I don't want to leave now.  How am I going to leave in two months?"    
            "I know you're confused," Derek hoped his tone was comforting, "there's so much to take in and try to deal with.  You didn't fuck up Stiles."    
            "Don't have feelings," Stiles muttered, "how hard is that?"    
            "It's mostly impossible."    
            "Do you have feelings you don't want?"    
            "Every moment," Derek admitted easily.  Stiles laughed softly before sighing.  
            "I mean about me."    
            "Yeah," he admitted on a breath, "those too."    
            "Oh."  Silence fell between them and Derek listened to their heartbeats, his seemed far too fast. 

            "What if it doesn't go away?"   
            "It will," Derek told him, as if he knew.    
            "How do you know?"  Derek grimaced.  Trust Stiles to call him on his shit now.    
            "There's a reason it only lasts three months without making it permanent.  Mating isn't meant to be a bad thing.  It's meant to be a partnership."    
            "So it will go away," Stiles said, sounding unsure.    
            "Yes."  _I hope so._  
            "This whole mating run seems a little ass backwards to me.  I mean how are we supposed to form a partnership when I don't know you at all before we're thrown into it?"    
            "Nobody's died yet," Derek told him, the joke falling flat.  Stiles just sighed, shifting into what must have been a more comfortable position.    
            "So basically," he said after another moment, "what you're telling me is that we have no control at all.  None whatsoever."  Derek wasn't sure how to answer and must have hesitated too long.  "We can't control our feelings.  We can't control this _bond_.  So we're just stuck."  He sighed again.  "Stuck," he repeated softly.    
            "Just for now."    
            "That doesn't make me feel any better," Stiles informed him.    
            "I'm sorry."    
            "You should be."  The words lacked heat and Derek fought off a sigh of his own.  "So Derek," Stiles' heart was thrumming rapidly then and Derek's stomach twisted, "if we can't fight it then why are we trying?"  Derek pulled back, putting as much space as he could between them without dropping Stiles to the floor.  His wolf was already curling warm in his gut, content with where it was sure this conversation was going.    
            "Stiles," he began carefully.  
            "What?" Stiles cut him off.  "You want to.  I know you do.  And if there's no reason not to then why not?"  

Stiles shifted suddenly, twisting and wrapping his body around Derek's.  His hands settled just over his shoulders, his thighs wrapping around Derek's hips.  Derek could feel his eyes widen.  Stiles' cheeks were red and his heart was pounding in his chest but he didn't back off.    
            "Sex will change things," Derek offered slowly, trying to keep thinking.  Trying to ignore the heat that was scorching across his skin.    
            "No it won't.  We've already had sex."    
            "We didn't know each other."  Derek's hands were moving on their own, around Stiles' ribs and gripping at his back.    
            "Doesn't matter," Stiles' voice had taken on a breathy quality and Derek was losing this battle fast.    
            "Why are you suddenly so eager to have sex with me?"  Stiles paused at this, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth before biting down on it.  Derek's wolf pressed against his skin, senses practically on overload as he took in Stiles' flush again.  His pulse.  His uneven breaths.  The wet little sound as he bit down again.    
            "Why not?"  Derek closed his eyes, trying to shut his mate out.  
            "That's not good enough," he gritted, dragging in a breath with difficulty.                
            "What reason would you accept?" Stiles challenged on a whisper.  "I want you?  I need you?"  For a moment Derek couldn't breathe.  He stood as he pushed Stiles off him, aiming him towards the futon.    
            "I don't know what's going on with you but knock it off," he spat, striding towards the door.    
            "Maybe I'm tired of being alone."  _Shit_. 

Derek stopped where he was, taking a breath before turning back.  Stiles wasn't looking at him and he cringed.  "No one ever wanted me before you.  I don't know how long it's gonna be after you until someone else wants me.  If it's not gonna do any harm then why not?"  His rapid heartbeat didn't falter and Derek wished it did.  He wished Stiles was lying.    
            "I'm pretty sure you're just oblivious to the people that want you Stiles."  Stiles rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like _Harlequin_.    
            "In case you failed to notice I'm nerdy and awkward and I have weird muscle spasms.  I promise I'm not beating any girls off with a stick."  He crossed his arms.  "Damn Derek why couldn't you just go along with it?  Now I'm the pathetic virgin begging you to sleep with me."  Derek sighed.  This was exactly why sex complicated things.  Even if you didn't have it.    
            "You're not pathetic or a virgin.  You don't even know what you do to me on a daily basis."  Stiles jumped to his feet as his entire face creased in a wince.  
            "Ew god please just stop there.  I don't need your pity comments okay?  _Your eyes are so pretty oh my darling oh my sweetest_."  He shook his head rapidly.  "I'm sorry I suggested it alright?  Let's just forget about it and I'm going to bed.  Goodnight."    
            "Stiles-"  
            "Just don't!  I'm going."  Stiles edged around Derek carefully, nearly falling into the banister as he rounded it.  He all but ran up the steps, the door slamming reverberating down the hall and making Derek flinch.  His wolf whined, the sound nearly escaping.    
            "Damn it."  He paced to the base of the stairs and back before yanking off his jacket and letting it drop to the floor.  He kicked his shoes off and folded the futon down before tossing himself onto it.  For a moment Derek covered his face with his hands.  There were probably very few ways he could have made that worse.  None immediately came to mind.     

It was a few hours before Stiles crept back down the stairs, peeking over the banister.  Derek guessed he was trying to tell if he was asleep.  He wasn't.  Stiles hesitated before continuing down, stopping on the bottom step and staring at him.    
            "I can't sleep," he offered finally.    
            "Me either."  Stiles sighed again before hopping off the step and crossing the room.  Derek shifted to make room for him and Stiles hesitated before climbing in.    
            "I'm sorry."  He curled into Derek's chest and sighed.  "Sorry," he mumbled again.  Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles and sighed too.  
            "You have nothing to be sorry for."    
            "Yeah I do I just jumped on this half baked idea full steam ahead and I really shouldn't be surprised at all that it ended badly."    
            "I didn't want to hurt you."  Stiles huffed out a quick laugh.    
            "It was a bad idea.  Sex is a bad idea.  I know.  I just feel so…" he groaned and tucked his face into Derek.  "Helpless," he mumbled into Derek's shirt.    
            "I really doubt sex is going to help that."    
            "At least it'd feel good.  Supposed to be better after the first time anyways right?"  A low growl rumbled around in Derek's throat before he could stop it.  Stiles sighed at him again.  "I mean I'm assuming I'll find out before I die."    
            "I'm sure you will," Derek assured him when he was sure he wouldn't growl at the idea of someone else touching Stiles.    
            "I just have to find someone else with the same taste as you.  No big deal."  Derek gritted his teeth and inhaled slowly.    
            "This isn't the best conversation for us to have," he let out haltingly.    
            "Why not?" Stiles questioned, honestly not getting it.    
            "Because you're my mate and I don't like to think about someone else touching you."  Derek's hand inched up Stiles' back as he spoke, resting at the nape of his neck before stroking it gently.    
            "Well no one did before you and if no one wants to after you I'll probably just toss myself off a cliff," Stiles muttered dryly. 

That image was even worse.    
            "That's not funny," Derek informed him.    
            "Well I can hardly be a cat man can I?  I'm not having an operation just so I can be a cat lady seriously."  That image was more appealing but Derek chose to keep that thought to himself.  Then again most anything would be more appealing than Stiles dead.  His fingers stilled and he measured Stiles' pulse for a few moments.  It was ridiculous he knew because he could hear his heart and even feel Stiles breathing against him.  The press and pull of his chest was exquisite.  Maybe the idea of death was just too much without as much physical proof against it as possible.    
            "I can't imagine you with a cat," Derek said, suddenly remembering they were having a conversation.  
            "I can't really either.  Cats aren't very trustworthy."    
            "Agreed."    
            "Dogs are better."    
            "I know you're tempted to make a joke.  I can feel it.  Don't go there."    
            "What if joking is how I release stress?"    
            "Find another way."    
            "I tried.  You shot me down."  Derek paused.  
            "Not funny."  
            "Half kidding," Stiles muttered, grinning at him for just a second.    
            "You need to work on your material."    
            "No one appreciates me," Stiles huffed with an exaggerated sigh.    
            "Give me something to appreciate," Derek returned, wincing as soon as it was out.    
            "We've discussed this," he could hear Stiles' smile, "I tried."  Derek closed his eyes and groaned quickly.    
            "You're not going to let this go are you?"    
            "Is this where you threaten to bend me over a tree?" Stiles demanded, pushing himself up and arching an eyebrow before wiggling them.    
            "You're on board with that now?"  Stiles dropped down, lying on Derek's chest again.  
            "That's still a no actually." 

            "What a relief," Derek exhaled dryly.    
            "I know it's very surprising with our history," Stiles told him easily, "but I do actually have standards."    
            "I'll be sure to make a note of it."    
            "Hey how come you can make jokes about bending me over a tree if you don't actually want to sleep with me?"    
            "I sleep with you constantly."  Stiles poked him sharply between two ribs.    
            "You know what I mean.  How come you don’t want to have sex with me?"  Derek sighed.  "As per usual, everyone is getting laid except Stiles.  Scott has even probably found someone to sleep with him by now.  Maybe it was even a pity thing since his best friend has been missing all this time."    
            "Not only is it not a good idea," Derek began, rolling his eyes at Stiles' continuing lack of filter, "there's no guarantee that I'd be able to keep my wolf down."    
            "So?  Pretty sure you let your freak flag fly the first time and it was…okay mostly."    
            "You seriously don't think before you talk do you?"    
            "Why would you say that?  I think all the time, I'm thinking right now."    
            "Do you think about what you're going to say?"    
            "Ah…not really."    
            "That's what I thought."    
            "Shove it Stubble McBroody."  Derek struggled to look down at him.  
            "What did you just call me?"  
            "You heard me," Stiles mumbled, not making the effort to meet his eyes. 

Derek laid back, lips curling in a smile.    
            "You're so strange," he couldn't help a chuckle.  Derek was a bit surprised when he couldn't seem to stop chuckling.    
            "Stop shaking me," Stiles whined.  Derek started laughing then.  Stiles whined again, the sound wavering as Derek continued to laugh.    
            "I can't breathe," he complained weakly.  "I don't understand you," he was still laughing around the words, "at all."    
            "Now he thinks I'm funny," Stiles muttered, "when I'm not even trying to be funny."  Derek's chest ached as he tried to stop laughing.  He couldn't seem to and the feeling was so alien he felt dizzy for several moments.  Stiles sat up eventually, staring down at him with hands on either side of his torso.  "Are you okay?" he questioned as Derek finally quieted.  
            "I don't think I've ever laughed that hard in my life," Derek admitted, another chuckle escaping.    
            "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh."    
            "Well it doesn't happen very often."  Derek wasn't even sure of the last time he'd laughed.  Not really.  
    
            "Seriously should I be scared because if I get my hands on some peaches I can make some cyanide really easily and just-"  
            "And just what?"  
            "And just have some cyanide.  In powder form."    
            "I shouldn't be surprised that you know that but I am.  I'm also kind of worried."    
            "What is cyanide bad for you guys too?"  
            "You ask that as if I have personal experience with poisons."    
            "You say that as if it's an entirely ridiculous notion.  What's the point of supernatural powers if you don't see how far they can go?"    
            "The point would probably be me staying alive."    
            "You have no sense of adventure."    
            "And you are just utterly ridiculous."  Stiles smiled at him again before settling back down.    
            "Maybe that's why we get along so…interestingly."    
            "I'm not really sure that's a good thing."    
            "It is."  Derek tried to think of something to say but after a moment it seemed a good place to leave the conversation.  It seemed a good place to leave them for the night. 

Derek woke up with Stiles' hair tickling his chin.  He smiled before reminding himself not to move.    
            "Derek," Stiles mumbled, head shifting slightly.    
            "Good morning," Derek returned.    
            "Mm, wha?" Stiles' head rose slowly and he blinked blearily before rubbing his eye.  "What was that?"    
            "I said good morning."    
            "Oh.  Good morning."    
            "Were you dreaming?"  Stiles sat up before stretching and pulling his shirt back down.   
            "Nope."  _Lie_.    
            "What were you not dreaming about?"    
            "I'm going to pee," Stiles announced.    
            "That's not an answer."  Stiles waved him off as he climbed the stairs.  Derek sat up and stretched too before laying back.  The shower started upstairs. 

His phone started vibrating in his jacket and he groaned to himself before getting off the futon and yanking it out.    
            "Hello?"  
            "Derek," Mona said, voice clipped, "you didn't come in last night."  Derek woke fully at those words, shoving a hand through his hair.  "You didn't call.  You didn't show up.  This may be your fist offense but you only have three chances here."    
            "I'm afraid something came up," he returned coolly.    
            "Oh?"  
            "I'm not comfortable discussing it."  There was a long pause.    
            "Then I take it you don't have an approved reason for missing work?"  
            "Not really.  Two more chances then?"  The answer was the line disconnecting.  He plugged his phone in and dropped it to the carpet before sitting down again.  He'd completely forgotten he was supposed to work.  He'd never done that before.  It wasn't the job.  An average salary that he probably worked too hard for, it could easily be replaced if he even needed it in the first place.  It was more that he'd forgotten.  It was just…weird.  Then again he'd been a bit preoccupied.  He was still considering trying to get some more sleep when Stiles came back down.  
            "What's up?" he prompted, "You kinda look constipated."  Derek cracked a smile against his will.  
            "I missed work last night."  Stiles paused with one hand still on the banister, blinking a few times.    
            "Huh," he exhaled.  "I take it you don't normally do that."    
            "No I don't normally do that," Derek answered with an eye roll.    
            "Well…sorry."  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug before moving into the kitchen.  "I was thinking a walk after breakfast," he tossed over his shoulder. 

A few hours later they were settled over a fallen tree.  Derek was laid back on it, Stiles curled against it as he read.  It wasn't a bad way to spend the afternoon and Derek was having a harder and harder time remembering what he'd done before Stiles.    
            "Derek."  Derek didn’t respond, grunting when Stiles climbed to his feet and fell on him.  "Derek I'm hungry and I know you're awake which is good because you're too big for me to carry you."    
            "Not that big, give it a shot," Derek suggested, offering one of his arms.    
            "Ha ha," Stiles let out.  Stiles simply fell on him again, not getting back up.  "I'm going to annoy you until you take me to get food."    
            "Maybe I've built up a resistance to you," Derek suggested.  Stiles wiggled around until his body was lined up over Derek's.    
            "Derek," he said slowly, "food."    
            "I'll meet you," Derek tried then.  
            "I can't find my way back alone and you know it."  Stiles poked him in the ribs as if to punctuate the statement and Derek grunted.  He continued to play dead and Stiles sighed dramatically before pushing up again.  Derek very nearly made a comment about not being a life sized pillow but resisted.  "Derek," Stiles whined, poking him again.  Derek managed a small growl at that.  Of course, Stiles being Stiles, he poked harder.  Derek sighed in favor of reacting.  "Come on," Stiles whined again.  "I'm hungry, don't be mean to me." 

Derek's lips curled just barely and Stiles huffed before attacking him with sharp stabs of his fingers.  Derek wasn't sure how it happened but his body suddenly vaulted off the tree, landing them both in the dirt.  Stiles gave a feeble cough his eyes wide.    
            "Are you alright?" Derek demanded.  Stiles coughed again.  
            "Yeah fine," he said shallowly before sucking in a gasp of air.  "Are you ticklish?" he questioned after another moment.    
            "No," Derek answered immediately.  Stiles grinned up at him.  
            "I think you mean yes."  
            "I'm not."  Not that he knew of.    
            "Really?" Stiles' hands reached between them, spanning across his ribcage.  Derek didn't react, relieved when he didn't have an urge to.  "Hm," Stiles exhaled, fingers curling just slightly.    
            "Satisfied?" Derek risked, jumping when Stiles' fingertips slid just under the lowest rib on each side.  
            "Yes," Stiles told him, delighted.    
            "Stiles-" Derek gasped as both of Stiles' hands moved in sync, skirting out and down towards his hips.  He began drumming them, sending teases of vibrations up Derek's torso.  Derek pushed his feet into the dirt for leverage before shoving his body into Stiles', trapping his torturous hands. 

            "I would define that as ticklish, just so you know."  
            "I would define that as a bad idea seeing as I have claws."  Stiles stuck out his tongue and Derek bit down on a smile, small as it would have been.  Stiles wiggled his hands again, grinning when Derek glared at him.    
            "You wouldn't use your claws on innocent little me now would you?"  
            "Innocent?  Ha."  
            "Hollow threat and you know it."  Derek let his hand crawl up Stiles' shoulder and rested it at his collarbone.  
            "You sure?"  Stiles just kept grinning at him.  
            "Don't forget I know your weak spots."  
            "This seems a good time to taunt me?"  Stiles arched an eyebrow, sobering.    
            "Okay, go ahead.  Sink into this long, pale, and _submissive_ neck."  He tilted his head back and Derek couldn't help but trace a finger over the most prominent vein.  The swell of skin all but danced against the press of his hand.  Stiles' pulse began picking up as his wide eyes watched Derek's every move.  
            "Should I be panicking or-?"  
            "Shh."  Unexpectedly, Stiles listened.  Derek's stomach twisted and he tried to press even closer.  His fingertip skated to the raised edge of scab.  Stiles didn't make a move to stop him, he was barely even breathing, and Derek almost wished he would because he had no idea what he was doing.

He wanted more.  He wanted Stiles closer and warmer and he wasn't sure he had name for this craving that was pulling and tugging along under his skin.  It felt a bit like falling towards his death.  Dangerous and thrilling all wrapped into one _want_ that set his teeth on edge and flared with each beat of Stiles' heart.    
            "You look sort of weirdly intense right now," Stiles let out in a rushed breath, "what are you thinking about?"  His voice pitched higher on the last word and Derek's lips curled again.    
            "Every inch of you," Derek answered as he leaned closer to Stiles.  Stiles' vein jumped.    
            "Are you t-trying to flirt with me?  Because it's sort of direct and like _direct_ and I'm p-pretty sure no one flirts like this."  Derek knew, on some level, that he should be paying more attention to what Stiles was saying.  He should get up and let Stiles make an awkward joke.  They should walk back and make dinner or go out.  They should do something other than continue to lay here, especially with the way Derek was very nearly between Stiles' thighs.  Stiles muttered something about beds, the jumble of words not actually making it out of his mouth.  Derek couldn't think straight.  Finally he stopped trying, pressing his lips just under Stiles' jaw.  Stiles inhaled quickly, entire frame tensing under him.  Too long.  It had been too long since he'd done this.  Too long since he'd touched his mate in the very way that he was meant to.  The way he needed to.  One hand shoved to the earth, pushing him up a few inches as he curled his other hand at the base of Stiles' skull.  Derek tilted his hips to fall between Stiles' legs, as they'd been teasing to do for the past several moments.  _Finally_.      

Stiles flailed a bit, legs falling open further.  Derek might wonder if it was intentional, later.  He was a bit busy catching Stiles' mouth as it was.  Stiles' lips stopped moving eventually and he tentatively kissed back.  Derek was nearly lost in the sudden silence.  Had Stiles been talking that _whole_ time?  Maybe he should have tried to listen.  Derek nipped lightly before lifting away, nearly growling.    
            "Talk," he spat.  Stiles stared at him with wide eyes, mouth moving noiselessly.  Derek did growl then and Stiles swallowed.  
            "B-Bed," he stammered, "next time we're doing this in a bed."  Derek sat back and forced himself to take a deep breath.  
            "Yeah?" he questioned, curling his hands and slowly letting them back out.    
            "I m-mean beds are good."  He fidgeted beneath Derek's crouch.  "Oh god you're not changing your mind are you?  I'm shutting up I swear."  Derek had a ridiculous urge to laugh, swaying forward and missing Stiles' mouth when he swayed back.    
            "I'm making sure I don't lose control and hurt you," he explained, catching the back of Stiles' neck again to hold him still.    
            "Oh," Stiles laughed once, "okay good yeah."  Derek paused, trying to get under control.  "We're doing this then?  Like really…doing this?"    
            "You talk too much."  Stiles rolled his eyes and huffed.  
            "Yeah I _know_ but are we doing this?"    
            "Come here." 

Stiles looked him up and down; at the way Derek's legs were practically trapping his, and frowned.    
            "I don't know if you've met me but…"  Derek rolled back on his heels before sitting, pushing Stiles' feet out of the way.        
            "Now," Derek said, gesturing to himself, "come here."    
            "Right," Stiles agreed quietly.  "I'm getting right on that."  Stiles pushed himself up slowly before hesitating.  "Uh," he exhaled, "you sure?"  It was Derek's turn to hesitate and he spent it watching Stiles.  He reached out slowly, wrapping his fingers around Stiles' wrist and tugging him forward.  Stiles tried to take a step and ended up pitching forward into Derek's lap.  Derek adjusted him quickly before letting his hand run down Stiles' thigh and over his knee.    
            "It's up to you."  Stiles stared at him for a long moment, as if he was waiting for Derek to take it back.  Derek worked on relaxing again.  Stiles took a deep breath before setting his hands on Derek's shoulders.  Derek leaned back slightly, bracing his hands behind him.  He had to stay in control here.  He had to keep his hands off Stiles.  "I've never-ah really done this before," Stiles admitted quietly.    
            "We don't have to do anything."  Stiles flushed, looking down.    
            "Jesus my life is a soap opera."  He shook his head quickly before leaning in and just barely touching his lips to Derek's.  Derek tensed, forcing his entire body not to move.  Stiles pulled back to lick his lips, breath puffing out as he returned.  Derek returned the pressure, tilting his neck just slightly to meet him.  He had to remind himself to take it slow, keep touches light. 

Stiles' hand tangled in his shirt and he pushed up, kissing him harder.  Derek gritted his teeth, exhaling sharply as he tried to hold on.  His wolf was too excited, bordering on happy and Derek wasn't used to this.  He was used to being angry.  He was used to holding back on the full moon even.  But this was something totally different.  Stiles wiggled against him and Derek had to pull back, turning away to try and catch his breath.    
            "Um.  Whoops?"    
            "I just…need a minute."    
            "I was just trying to uh and it's kind of hard to move when you're straddling someone."  He felt Stiles bury his face in his neck, probably forcing himself to shut up.    
            "It's a little hard to maintain my control when you're straddling me," Derek said in response.  Stiles pulled back up slowly, nibbling his bottom lip.  Derek waited another few seconds before turning back.    
            "We don't have to do this," Stiles told him seriously.  Derek laughed quickly, easing the tension between them suddenly.  "We don't," Stiles insisted, smiling too.  Derek caught his mouth in a quick kiss, bringing one hand to Stiles' back to help keep him upright.  "Not that I'm opposed to it," Stiles mumbled into his mouth.    
            "Shut up," Derek mumbled back. 

A shrill whistle yanked Derek back again, head snapping to the left to search out the sound.    
            "Derek," Aiden called out, too far away to be seen.  "My dad needs to see you."    
            "What?" Stiles exhaled, still tangled up in his body.  
            "Right now?" Derek demanded, mouth pinching.  There was a pause, as if Aiden didn't even want to answer.  
            "Yeah."    
            "What's going on?" Stiles questioned.    
            "I don't know."  Derek lifted Stiles and stood before settling him on his feet.  "We need to head back."    
            "Right now?" Stiles echoed.  Derek nodded.  "Awesome," Stiles sighed.  His fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt briefly.  "Maybe it's a good thing," he said after his hand dropped.  "Maybe it stopped us from making a big mistake."    
            "I thought it didn't matter?"    
            "Well it sounded better than saying we got cockblocked didn't it?" Stiles demanded, one hand falling on his hip.  Derek smiled against his will once again.    
            "Not really."  Stiles huffed and Derek smirked.  "But I suppose you could be right on both counts.  We can always argue about it later."  He offered his hand and Stiles stuck out his tongue as he took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I'm sorry. It is just not happening right now. I'm no longer making any promises for smut because this story is not listening to me. I'm listening to it. Thanks again for all the support!


	13. Oh, Bear with Me

Stiles was trying to calm down.  It wasn't an easy task.  Knowing that Derek could hear him trying only made it worse.  His hand was warm around Stiles' and it only brought the recent memories of being on top of Derek sizzling back to the surface.  He wasn't sure why Derek had offered his hand but he had the distinct feeling that it meant something.  It had to mean something.  And what had just happened.  Well.  His cheeks burned and he let out a soft, depreciating laugh.  He wasn't used to his hormones being so _persistent_.  Not when he was awake at least.  He'd had his share of dreams, just like anyone.  And sure there were passing thoughts that maybe were a bit more distracting than others.  But with Derek now…  It was difficult.  It felt like they were getting closer and closer and maybe they were.  But Stiles wasn't sure how to adjust to that.  He wasn't sure how to handle Derek.  In the back of his mind Stiles wondered if these feelings hadn't been here all along.  Though maybe feelings wasn't the right word for it.  His feelings for Derek were different than this.  Though not totally separate either.  If they had been separate Stiles would have been trying to deal with all this lust, he nearly shuddered at the word, earlier.  But it hadn't been a problem because Derek had been awful and actually being with Derek had been the furthest thing from his mind.  But now things were different.  Derek wasn't really bad at all and they were getting closer.  Part of Stiles worried they weren't as close as he actually wanted them to be.  But he shouldn't be thinking about that.  Because that just led him right back to what he'd been trying to avoid.  Sex. 

They were still trekking through the trees and Stiles nearly stumbled, pulling them both to a stop.  
            "Okay?" Derek questioned.  Stiles didn't know why he'd expected Derek to drop his hand.  He hadn't.  
            "Y-yeah."  Stiles cursed himself.  "I'm fine."  Derek simply looked at him and Stiles knew that Derek knew he was lying.  He was only mostly lying so it really didn't even matter.  Lying to Derek was so much harder than lying to his dad.  It wasn't fair.  "Don't we have somewhere to be?" he grumbled.  Derek smiled just a bit before gesturing for him to lead the way.  Stiles scowled and stepped forward, reasonably sure Derek would guide him from behind.  Of course he wasn't counting on how having Derek behind him would affect him.  His pulse picked up as his breath hitched.  It was oddly reminiscent of the first night they'd…met.  Yes.  Meeting was the best way to put it.  Aiden was waiting for them at the edge of the trees and it shook Stiles from his thoughts.  Aiden didn't look apologetic or embarrassed, though he'd certainly heard some of what was going on.  But Aiden didn't really look anything.  His face was expressionless.  Stiles supposed it was meant to be comforting but it had the opposite effect.  All Stiles could think of was that Aiden must have learned that from his father.  Couldn't upset people before the right time could you?  His stomach twisted and Derek's hand dropped away suddenly.  Stiles' fingers curled infinitesimally before he could stop it.  He couldn't help the feeling that something bad was about to happen.  All he could think about was doctors in ERs and funeral home directors. 

Surely it couldn't be that bad.  He tried to shake himself out of it.  Derek slid around him easily and cut through the houses.  Stiles followed assuming Aiden was following him.  Derek shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and headed for the center of town.  Stiles just kept following.  He didn't want Derek going into this alone.  Whatever it was.  Aiden's hand pulled him to a quick stop at the start of the hall leading towards Ross' office.  Stiles jerked to look at him and Aiden dropped his hand, dipping his chin slightly.   
            "Maybe you should wait out here," he suggested gently.   
            "I don't want to wait out here," Stiles shot back, taking another step forward.  
            "Stiles."  It was enough of a command to stop him.  Stiles gritted his teeth.   
            "You're not going to tell me what's happening are you?"   
            "You can wait with Mrs. Cross."  Stiles winced at the name alone, sighing before finally allowing Aiden to lead him away.  Mrs. Cross' desk was just around another corner, chairs conveniently placed next to it.  Stiles sank to one before curling his toes in his sneakers and letting his head fall to the wall.  No one commented on the sound.  Aiden paced a few feet away before stopping.  He was now clearly uneasy and Stiles' nerves only ratcheted higher. 

It was the jerk of Aiden's head that alerted Stiles to something coming their way.  He shot to his feet, nearly knocking into Derek as he rushed around the corner in a blur.  Derek stopped so suddenly he grabbed either of Stiles' shoulders.  Whether it was to steady himself or Stiles, Stiles wasn't sure.   
            "Derek," Stiles hazarded on a whisper.  Derek's eyes snapped to his but didn't connect.  It was like Derek didn't even see him.  Stiles brought his hands up to Derek's sides, landing on his ribs.  "Hey," he tried again.  "What's wrong?"  Derek blinked once, eyes remaining unfocused.  Stiles pushed on his ribs slightly, trying to shake him.  "Derek," he repeated louder.   
            "Nothing," Derek muttered, hands tightening before dropping off.  Stiles didn't step back, feeling himself frown.   
            "Don't lie."  Derek's lips curled, flashing his teeth.  He pulled Stiles' hands away before trying to step around him.  Stiles followed the movement jerkily, shoe squeaking against the linoleum.  "Hey don't shut me out," he urged.  "We don't have to talk about it but don't you dare shut me out."  Derek growled at him then, eyes focusing for a moment much too short.  For an insane moment, Stiles wished he could growl back.  As it was his hand scrambled against the desk, brain following along sluggishly as he gripped a magazine in both hands and rolled it sloppily.  One of Derek's eyebrows had managed to raise in challenge by the time Stiles slapped him in the face with the rolled magazine.  Derek didn't move.  Stiles didn't move.  In fact no one moved.  Stiles had the feeling that both Aiden and Mrs. Cross were staring at him in complete shock.  Stiles was shocked himself.   
            "Did you just," Derek began, lips forming the words almost carefully, "did you really just do that?"   
            "Uh."  Stiles didn't have anything to say.  There wasn't really anything to say.  The magazine was still in his hand.  There were witnesses.  He was screwed.  Derek was going to kill him. 

Derek grabbed him by the back of the neck, lips curled again, and Stiles emitted a squeak that he would not admit to even on his deathbed.  Derek tore the magazine from Stiles' hand next, throwing it to the ground and pulling Stiles towards him before spinning him around and yanking him along behind as he marched towards the door.  Stiles grabbed hold of the wrist at his neck, half to make sure Derek didn't decide to snap his neck like a twig.  Of course by the time they made it back to Derek's house, having passed several people along the way, Stiles almost wished he had.  Derek shoved through the door and threw Stiles across the room, landing him mostly on the futon.  Stiles did a quick check, glad it hadn't hurt too badly.  The door slammed and he flinched, afraid to look to Derek.  "Okay," Stiles forced out, trying to sit up, "I had to do that something obviously happened and you can't not tell me because it's important if you-" he cut off on an alarmed little inhale as Derek shoved him back down.  Derek was on the futon with him before he'd managed anything else, curling on his chest.  Stiles froze perfectly, not even daring to breathe; one of Derek's arms wrapped around his stomach, hand curling around his hip.  He sighed deeply, eyes closed, and Stiles finally took a small breath.  It was another minute before Derek took hold of Stiles' arms and wrapped them around himself.  He settled back in, arm worming under Stiles'.  Stiles blinked several times.   
            "I have to tell you something," Derek said.  The words were quiet and serious and Stiles' toes curled in his sneakers again.  "But first I just-need this."   
            "Okay," Stiles exhaled carefully. 

Stiles waited as patiently as he could, willing himself not to panic.  Derek wasn't clingy like this.  He'd never laid on Stiles.  And after the whole magazine thing Stiles was pretty sure he was going to lose a vital part of his body.  Now they were cuddling.   
            "Laura was my sister," Derek said so quietly Stiles tilted his head to get his ear better aligned.  "And it's my fault she died."  Stiles' teeth sunk into his lip and he bit down hard to keep himself from saying anything.  Derek never talked about his family.  Even Suzy what's her face the waitress had said that.  And Derek was telling him about Laura.  He had to keep his mouth shut.  "There were hunters in the woods."  He said it so simply that Stiles froze again.  "We were out there because of me and they killed her."  Stiles was still stuck on _sister_ when his brain suddenly jumped to his first fight with Derek.   
            "The first time you yelled at me…you were worried about me?"  There was a long silence before,  
            "That's what you ask me?"   
            "Well I suppose you've already heard that 'you couldn't have known' and 'it wasn't your fault.'  Hearing from me won't help," Stiles muttered quickly, even though it wasn't what he'd been thinking.   
            "I just told you the worst thing I've ever done, something I've told one person before you, and you're acting like it doesn't even matter."   
            "Uh.  You're welcome?"  Derek shook his head quickly, lifting one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.               
            "You can't just-Stiles you can't just _accept_ this."   
            "What am I supposed to do about it?" 

Derek sat up, drawing away totally and Stiles followed him.  "What am I supposed to do?" Stiles pushed.  "Am I supposed to be scared of you?  Am I supposed to hate you?  What?"   
            "Something other than acceptance would be a good reaction yes."   
            "You just said hunters killed her and you were probably just a kid when it happened Derek.  I'm not exactly ready to put the needle in your arm no."   
            "So you don't care at all that I got my sister killed?"  
            "Something terrible happened.  That doesn't make it your fault."   
            "Why do people always say that?" Derek questioned him, mouth pinching in a thin line.  "If it hadn't been for me she wouldn't have died.  That's the end of it.  And it doesn't matter that I didn't know or that I didn't mean it, that I would have stopped it if I could have.  None of that matters.  What matters is she's dead.  She's gone and it's my fault.  It will never not be my fault."  Stiles bit his lip again and looked down to where his hands were laying limp in his lap.  His fingers were half curled in the air as if they'd begun to do something and stopped too soon.   
            "So why are you telling me this now?" he questioned softly.  "What happened?" 

Derek's lips twisted shortly and he grimaced before shaking his head again.   
            "My uncle found me."  
            "Found you?"  
            "He wants me to come home," Derek continued.   
            "Oh," Stiles let out.  "Is that…a good thing?"  Derek didn’t answer and Stiles wondered if he knew the answer.  "When you say he found you…that implies that you left."   
            "I did," Derek said stiffly after several moments.   
            "You left your family?"   
            "It was too painful," Derek admitted, speaking carefully.  "After what I did…I couldn't…  There was no undoing it Stiles.  There was no erasing the guilt or the blame.  Of course they said it wasn't my fault but it was.  It was the unspoken fact of the household.  We all knew, even the little ones, we just didn't speak of it."  
            "But you left them…they didn't ask you to?"   
            "They didn't ask me to leave.  They didn't ask me to stay."   
            "Oh."  Stiles reached out slowly, giving Derek plenty of time to move away, before pulling him back down. 

            "I can't," Derek paused and huffed out a breath, wrapping his arms around Stiles again, "I don't know why he wants me to come back.  I just…shut down.  I ran."  Stiles didn't comment, absorbing the information as he let his hand drift up and down Derek's back.   
            "Maybe they miss you," he suggested eventually.   
            "They shouldn't miss me."   
            "My dad blames himself sometimes," Stiles breathed out cautiously, "for not being able to save my mom."   
            "What happened to her?"   
            "She was sick," Stiles let his eyes close, holding on to Derek tighter, "not for very long."   
            "He couldn't save her," Derek murmured, "it's not his fault."   
            "I know.  So does he.  Most of the time."   
            "It's not the same."  
            "I know.  But it sort of is."  Derek sighed, the sound almost defeated.  
            "You weren't there," he said, "you didn't have to-watch," he sounded pained then, "as it happened."   
            "But you couldn't have saved her," he should leave it at that, he knew he should, "could you?" 

Derek tensed at the challenge.  
            "No.  Not with my uncle holding me back.  They would have killed us all."   
            "She wouldn't have wanted you to die trying to save her Derek."  Derek inhaled shakily and Stiles noticed for the first time that he was trembling.  
            "I know that," he whispered.  "But it was _my_ fault.  I should have been the one to die."  Stiles fell silent again.  Derek felt dangerously close to breaking now and he was done pushing him.  "Are we done talking about it now?"   
            "Yeah," Stiles allowed, "sure."   
            "Good," Derek settled against him again, "I'll be fine I just…need some time."  Stiles wasn't sure he believed him but he stuck to his earlier decision and stopped arguing with him anyways.    

It was a few hours before Derek lifted enough to look at him.  "You hungry?" he murmured.   
            "Always," Stiles returned lightly.   
            "Guess we should make food huh?"   
            "If you want," Stiles returned.  Derek half smiled before pushing himself up.  He offered his hand to Stiles again.   
            "You want spaghetti?"  Stiles grasped his hand, eyes widening at the offer as Derek pulled him up.  
            "You're cooking for me again?"   
            "I'm cooking," Derek corrected with another smile, smaller than the first, "you're here."   
            "I am," Stiles agreed easily enough.  Derek yanked off his shoes and let them drop to the floor before padding into the kitchen in his socks.  After a few moments, Stiles followed him.   
            "I'm okay," Derek told him, filling a pot with water in the sink, "Being close to you is very beneficial for me."   
            "The bond?"  
            "Yes."   
            "Well I'm glad it's good for something."  Derek smiled again and Stiles wondered if he really was okay.  He wondered if that was possible.   
            "Me too."  Derek grabbed salt out of a cabinet, throwing a generous amount in the water.  He turned to Stiles for a moment, brushing his hand on his thigh.  "Thank you."   
            "Of course." 

It felt formal and stiff.  So strange considering the way they'd just been twisted together on the couch.  The way they continued to edge around each other, neither willing to admit to anything, even when their bodies were drawing them closer and disproving everything their mouths tried to deny.  Stiles frowned.  He wasn't unwilling to admit anything.  He just had to remind himself of that fact.  There wasn't much room in the kitchen and every time Derek took a step Stiles felt crowded so he went back to the futon, leaving Derek to cook.   
            "Don't get used to this," Derek advised as he handed Stiles a plate and went back into the kitchen.  Stiles couldn't tell if he was kidding or not.  Derek flicked out the light in the kitchen before returning with a plate of his own and sitting carefully.   
            "Believe me it's still an alien sensation."  Derek's knee nudged his and Stiles smiled as he pulled the fork out of his spaghetti and twirled some noodles around it.   
            "It would be better if I made the sauce myself but I've never had the patience for it," Derek admitted, watching him a moment.   
            "So do you actually like cooking?" Stiles questioned, fork dangling noodles in the air.  Derek shrugged.  
            "I'm used to going out."  It wasn't really an answer but Stiles felt questioning whether or not Derek felt like going out now would push them into a conversation they certainly didn't need to have.  He focused on eating instead. 

He liked Derek's spaghetti more than Shane's chili.  It was a problem.  Stiles knew that Derek's spaghetti had mostly come from a jar while Shane's chili probably was made from scratch.  So, logically speaking, adding that Shane cooked all day every day and Derek taught kickboxing, Shane's food _should_ be better.  But it wasn't.  And Stiles knew it was purely mental on his part.  Because Derek _didn't_ cook all day every day.  So the fact that he cooked for Stiles…well it was pretty impressive.  And semi flattering.  Okay maybe it was really flattering.  More than Stiles wanted to admit.  Sure he said it wasn't because of Stiles but the fact remained that when Stiles had arrived the fridge and cupboards had been totally empty.  Derek didn't cook for himself.  That much was obvious.  So it really was for Stiles and Stiles thought he liked that just a bit too much.  He probably ate the last few noodles too violently, arguing with himself as he chewed.   
            "I'll do dishes," he announced, standing quickly and holding out a hand for Derek's plate before he looked to him.  Derek had one eyebrow raised, lips quirked.  
            "Leave them."  Stiles rolled his eyes, wiggling his hand.  
            "Give it."   
            "Leave them for tomorrow."  Stiles rolled his eyes again.  
            "Stop being ridiculous it will take like ten minutes now give it."  Derek yanked Stiles' plate out of his hand and strode into the kitchen before dropping them unceremoniously in the sink.  "What was the point of that?" Stiles demanded, smacking into Derek's chest as the werewolf moved unnaturally fast to block him.   
            "You can't do dishes in bed," Derek told him seriously.  Stiles nearly said _yes I can_ before his brain caught up with his mouth.   
            "Uh okay," he let out. 

Derek sighed at him, as if Stiles was being entirely uncooperative, before picking him up and slinging him over a shoulder.  Stiles went limp, finally catching on.  "You know, if you want cuddles, all you have to do is ask."  Derek didn't answer, climbing the stairs.  Stiles snickered to himself, trying to imagine Derek telling him he wanted cuddles.  He had the feeling the words would never pass Derek's lips.  "I'm not a blowup doll," Stiles announced as Derek dropped him to the bed with a bounce.   
            "What would I do with a blowup doll?" Derek questioned, shutting the door.  
            "I imagine you would-" he cut off, Derek's smirk giving him pause, "never mind."   
            "It wouldn't go very well if I had to carry the conversation."  Stiles rolled his eyes yet again.   
            "The whole point is that you don't have to have a conversation."  Derek snorted and Stiles tried to glare at him.   
            "I'll take your word for it."   
            "You aren't funny."   
            "You talk too much."  Stiles sighed and with one last eye roll unbuttoned his jeans and wiggled out of them.  
            "Okay.  Come cuddle."  He laid back and opened his arms, surprised when Derek actually climbed into bed.  He paused on his knees before tugging his shirt off.  He balled it quickly and half turned, throwing it to turn off the light.  "That was impressive," Stiles admitted in the darkness.  Derek shifted down to him; sliding along his body and making him shiver.  
            "Thanks."   
            "No problem."  His voice was too high and Stiles swallowed before taking a deep breath.   
            "Stiles."  
            "Mm?"  
            "Put your arms around me."  Stiles obeyed, smiling as he did.

Stiles woke up choking on air, entire body rioting with the effort to wake up and the adrenaline shooting through his system.  His eyes adjusted to the pre-dawn light slowly and he tried to catch his breath, Derek seated barely a foot away.  Stiles' stomach was throbbing and he wasn't entirely sure why but he ignored it to slide over to Derek anyways.  He leaned on his elbow, free hand reaching out to Derek's kneecap.  
            "Hey," he tried gently, "you okay?"  Derek nodded once before actually looking to him.  Stiles wasn't sure what he saw but the next second Derek was kissing him, one hand cradling the back of his neck to draw him closer.  Stiles tried to move with him, one arm getting trapped between them awkwardly.  It didn't even get the chance to hurt before Derek was moving him, pulling one leg over his lap and leaning into the kiss.  Stiles wasn't entirely sure he was awake anymore as Derek growled softly into his mouth, one hand sliding under his shirt.  Just in case he was he should say something else, make sure Derek was actually feeling okay.  But words always messed them up.  Talking always messed them up.  And this felt so… _good_.  It wasn't just good it was almost visceral in the way their bodies suddenly fit together.  The way Derek's lips laid against his.  The grip of his hands.  The press of his chest.  There was an annoying little thought buzzing around in the back of Stiles' mind but rather than pulling it closer to examine it he pushed it away and settled in Derek's lap before letting his hands explore. 

He couldn’t breathe right.  Derek's skin was so much smoother than it looked.  Stiles wondered briefly if that was a werewolf thing.  If they all just had really, really great skin.  Then his thumb hooked under Derek's shoulder blade and he forgot about it.  Stiles lifted onto his knees for a second to get closer before dropping down again.  His hand skimmed down and across Derek's spine, fingers hooking and digging in as Derek nipped his bottom lip.  He'd already forgotten about the good kind of pain.  The kind that made you gasp and burn for more.  Derek's hands tightened on his hips and Stiles gasped again, drawing back about two inches.  Derek's eyes were glowing blue and heat washed over Stiles as he stared into them.  Stiles moved his hands slowly, settling them just on Derek's ribs.  Derek inhaled barely, ribs swelling out.  Stiles had to bite back a moan, which was pretty ridiculous.  Derek's lips twisted and his eyes darkened painfully slow.  His hands loosened and he leaned in again, kissing Stiles softly.  Stiles wasn't exactly relieved that Derek pulled his wolf back.  He was sort of…pleased with it though.  A moan escaped as Derek pushed him up, lifting him totally off the mattress before dropping back onto it.  A hand landed on his neck and Stiles rearranged his legs as Derek settled on top of him.  Derek's other hand was sneaking under his shirt and over his ribs, Stiles trying to arch his back into the touch.  It didn't work and Derek rumbled quietly above him.  He was nearly tempted to make a joke but his mouth was occupied and they weren't really talking right now anyways.  He squeezed his thighs around Derek's hips instead, hands scrambling over Derek's back again.  One hand scratched lightly before moving up and over the back of Derek's neck, curling there as Derek's tongue teased past his lips.

Derek's hips rolled down onto his and Stiles had to pull back to breathe.  Rather than stopping Derek moved to his neck, rolling his hips again.  A surprised little moan fell from Stiles' lips.  He couldn't seem to drag enough air in, making an embarrassingly loud noise in his attempt.  Derek paused, breathing hotly just against where his throat met his chest.  Stiles' toes curled, tangling in sheets as his thighs tried to spread further with a need he wasn't sure he knew.  As if he wanted Derek closer than was humanly possible.  But maybe he did.  Derek was still panting against his skin, not moving other than that.  Stiles' hands gripped at his back and tried to flip them, grunting at Derek's sheer mass.  Derek's hands slid up the backs of his thighs, stopping at the bend of each knee.  Stiles barely had time to suck in another breath before Derek rolled, hauling him on top.  His hands landed on Derek's chest and Stiles stared at them for a few seconds, wondering how he was actually seeing what he was seeing.  Derek's hands skimmed back up his thighs and over his hips before slipping under the elastic and stretching over Stiles' bare skin.  His eyes shot to Derek's and he gasped again as Derek's fingers curled over him and pulled him closer.  He knew then, and it was sort of stupid him only then realizing, but there wouldn't be any stopping now.  There was no fumbling or questioning.  This was happening.  Derek pushed up, hesitating just a second before kissing Stiles again. 

The sound of ripping fabric made him shudder and Derek was lifting him again before yanking away the remnants of his boxers.  The rasp of Derek's jeans against the backs and insides of his thighs had Stiles biting his tongue to catch another moan.  Derek kissed his throat before sucking on a patch of skin, hands gripping him so tightly it hurt.  Stiles focused on breathing somewhat desperately.  The way his throat moved under Derek's mouth was nearly torture.  Teeth grazed skin and Stiles gasped and jerked back, wide eyes taking in Derek's blue ones again.  Derek's mouth snapped shut and his lips pressed thin, eyes closing as he took several deep breaths.  His fingers kneaded at Stiles' hips and it tingled as blood started flowing again.  Stiles wondered if there were actually indents where Derek's hands had been.  Derek dropped a kiss on his jaw before rolling them again.  A low gasp slipped out as Derek settled between his legs again.  Stiles closed his eyes and dragged air back in, gripping at Derek's biceps.  Derek kissed him again, hard, before slipping down to his jaw and then trailing down his neck.  Stiles' entire body trembled and he was glad he was already flat on his back.  Derek dropped kisses down his chest and stomach, seemingly at random.  He paused, breath huffing out just below Stiles' naval.  Stiles whimpered just barely.  Derek smirked up at him and Stiles thought overdramatically that he was going to die.  Derek moved slowly, one hand grasping Stiles' knee firmly.  He pushed himself up before pulling Stiles' left knee and pressing it into the mattress on the opposite side of his right knee.  Stiles' hips were twisted then, trapped when Derek lowered himself back to the mattress.  It completely bared Stiles to him and he had to pause again, inhaling deeply before swallowing. 

Derek's fingers grazed over him gently and Stiles ground his teeth together.  The press of Derek's chest on his calf was the only warning he got before Derek's mouth pressed right against his hole.  Stiles' back arched, landing him stomach down on the mattress.  He grabbed a pillow in his line of vision, twisting it in his fists, half tempted to bite it.  Derek's tongue pushed inside and Stiles' back arched again, entire body tensing.  Derek kneaded the back of his thighs and both his legs kicked out without permission, doing nothing to displace Derek.  If the low growl was anything to go by, Derek was only amused by the motion.  Stiles gripped the pillow tighter, shoving his face into it to muffle the moans slipping past his lips.  He squirmed against the bed, one knee managing to find purchase briefly and pushing his ass higher into the air.  Derek only pressed harder against him, hands squeezing again.  Stiles groaned into the pillow, knee sliding to the side and dropping him back down.  Derek eased back and Stiles' fingers twisted tighter in the pillow, he tried to look back cautiously, catching a quick glimpse of Derek's black hair before diving back into the pillow.  Derek eased a finger in to the knuckle and Stiles couldn't help a whine.  His body tightened without his permission and Derek stilled behind him.  His heart was racing painfully in his chest and Stiles kept his face buried.  Derek began rocking his hand gently, trying to ease him open again.  Stiles turned his head, eyes closed, forcing himself to breathe deeper.  He lifted his hips one at a time and let his thighs fall further apart.  He tried to relax, willing himself to ignore the burn.  Derek continued rocking his hand, eventually twisting his wrist with the motions. 

As Stiles' body opened to allow the motions Derek added a second finger, thrusting them shallowly and twisting.  Stiles whimpered, trying to lift his hips and get some friction.  Derek's fingers spread and Stiles fell back to the mattress with a guttural moan.  He didn't understand how it could be too much and not enough.  Derek's fingers spread again and Stiles gripped at the pillow uselessly.  Another twist as Derek slid his fingers out and Stiles' back arched again.  He let his hips roll down slowly, breath hissing out.  Derek guided Stiles' hips back up, spreading his fingers as Stiles repeated the motion.  Stiles' teeth tugged on his bottom lip as he tried to keep the moan knocking around in his chest quiet.  Derek's teeth closed over his ass, biting just hard enough to make Stiles yelp.  He scrambled away from Derek, tucking his butt under him and grabbing at the sheet only to glare when Derek yanked it away.  He had to clear his throat before he tried to speak.  
            "What was that for?" he demanded breathlessly.  Derek crawled up the bed, lips curling.   
            "I wanted a reaction."  His hands settled on Stiles' knees, pulling him down a few inches and pushing them apart.   
            "Weren't you already getting mm-"  Derek's lips cut him off firmly and Stiles abandoned talking again.  Derek slipped two fingers back inside as they kissed and Stiles grabbed a handful of Derek's hair. 

Somewhere between the third finger stretching him and his hips rocking against Derek's hand Stiles lost track of Derek biting him.  He seemed to lose track of everything except where Derek was touching him.  Derek's hand slid free before gripping his hip and Stiles stilled suddenly, eyes shooting wide.  Derek pulled him even closer, dropping a kiss on his mouth.  He moved between Stiles' legs, tilting his hips up before pausing again.  Stiles swallowed tightly, hands curling at his sides.  Derek leaned down, kissing him gently.   
            "Okay?" he whispered.  Heat curled in Stiles' stomach and he smiled slightly.  
            "Mmhm."  Derek's hand glided around his thigh, stopping at the bend of his knee and tugging.  Stiles let his leg be guided around Derek's hip, swallowing roughly around a nervous giggle.  It wasn't even a big deal.  They'd already done this.  He was being stupid.  Derek wasn't moving, evidently waiting for something.  Stiles had no idea what it was.  He stared at him for what felt like several minutes, unsure if blue was actually lurking in the depths of Derek's irises or if he was imagining it.  "Derek?" he risked, the whisper too loud in the silence.  Derek blinked once, twice, before leaning forward and kissing Stiles again.  He hovered over him, Stiles' thigh canted higher at the change in positions.  Derek pressed closer so slowly Stiles' breathing faded until he was holding his breath.  Derek's fingertips slid over his jaw and Stiles felt faint for a terrible second.  He blinked rapidly and inhaled just a bit, stopping again as just the head of Derek's cock pressed against him.  It was hot and slick and suddenly Stiles' lungs wouldn't inflate at all.  His fingers tangled in the sheets beneath them. 

Derek hesitated again and a growl rumbled in his chest, he was close enough that Stiles could see his throat vibrating with it.  His stomach twisted and he forced a short breath in.  Derek began pressing in but it was slow.  It was so torturously slow that Stiles thought his heart was just going to stop with the sheer stress of it.  The air between them was too hot, Derek was too hot and it was making him sweat.  He closed his eyes briefly and screamed some pretty creative curse words mentally.  He was nearly positive he was stuck to the sheets, not that it really mattered with Derek pinning him to the bed.  Finally Derek's hips pressed against his and Stiles couldn't help a small sound.  He wasn't even sure what had prompted it.  Derek kissed the side of his mouth, letting his teeth scrape over Stiles' cheek lightly.  He rocked his hips, barely moving either of them.  Stiles let out another sound and this was definitely closer to a moan.  He wasn't in any pain, which was a silver lining he supposed.  Derek pulled back slightly before rocking forward again and Stiles' head rolled back into the pillow as he tried to push his hips closer to Derek's.  Derek's mouth landed just under his jaw where he pressed a kiss before sucking.  Stiles' skin flushed even hotter and he gave up trying to breathe normally and panted.  The sun must have been rising because the room was bathed in an orange glow that Stiles only now noticed.  He sucked in another breath before releasing the sheets and letting his hands meet at the back of Derek's neck. 

His grip was rewarded with a harder thrust and Stiles moaned low in his throat.  "Fucking hell," he managed shallowly.  Derek rolled his hips slowly and Stiles tugged at the hair on the back of his head.  Derek bent his head to bite at Stiles' forearm, meeting his eyes with his teeth still closed over the skin.  Stiles chose to ignore the threat and tugged again.  Derek's lips curled against his arm just before he released it.  He pulled out completely before thrusting back in.  Stiles' whole body pressed back with the force of it and a shallow breath slowly escaped his lips.  Another slow thrust had Stiles groaning.  He tried to pull Derek closer, only half surprised when it didn't work.  He thrust again at the same pace and Stiles bit his lip.  "Derek," his voice was dangerously close to trembling, "faster, _please_."  Derek's hips snapped forward.  His hand crumpled the pillow behind Stiles' head, using it for leverage.  Stiles' muscles were tensed as he clung to Derek, meeting his thrusts the best he could.  Derek's hips rolled as he found a rhythm that had Stiles moaning every other breath.  He nipped just under Stiles' jaw and Stiles shoved his head back to give him access, not bothering to close his mouth between dragging air in and the pathetic sounds he was making.  He was past the point of caring that he couldn't shut up. 

His cock was aching with the need to be touched.  Derek was still sucking and biting at his neck so Stiles dropped one hand from the back of his neck and snaked it between their bodies.  He couldn't help a jolt as he tentatively wrapped his hand around his cock.  He let out a groan before squeezing experimentally.  A gasp cut through his next moan as his entire body drew tight.  " _Fuuuuck_ ," he let out softly.  Derek exhaled sharply at his throat before biting harder.  Stiles' moan came out strangled and he shut his eyes tightly, forcing himself to breathe.  The influx of air burned slightly and he bit his lip savagely before letting it back out.  Derek pressed a gentle kiss against his neck, hips slowing.  Stiles whined in protest before thinking it through.  Derek chuckled, sucking a tiny patch of skin.  He pressed back inside Stiles and let their hips rock together just barely.  Stiles stroked slowly, fingers tightening over the head, letting out a shaky breath.  Derek caught his lips again and Stiles moaned right into his mouth.  He stroked again, pushing his hips into Derek's.  Derek hummed, staying still.  His lips were still pressing lightly and Stiles wanted to bite them.  He wanted to yank Derek's hair.  He just wanted to make him _move_.  He shoved his hips up, stroking again.  "Derek," he mumbled, the plea half caught.  Derek pulled out and thrust forward slowly.  Stiles did bite his lip then, gasping when Derek simply bit back.  _Not a good idea to bite a werewolf_ his brain supplied.

He let his head fall to the pillow and tried to think.  Derek took the opportunity to drop back to his throat and Stiles knew his neck was going to be about thirty different colors in the morning-later today.  Derek's hips slapped against his, effectively shoving the air from Stiles' lungs.  His left hand tangled in Derek's hair as his right began moving over his cock again.  He pulled quickly, desperately, stomach tight and muscles burning with the need for release.  Derek bit at his lips again, suddenly, and the pain and shock of it sent Stiles tumbling right over the edge.  He cried out with that last second of tension, muscles quaking as it was released in waves.  Derek shoved back in, a broken groan falling from his lips as he fell on top of Stiles.  He mouthed at Stiles' neck lazily and Stiles breathed out languidly.  He pressed his sore lips together, tongue running over them.  Derek rolled off of him eventually and Stiles smacked at him halfheartedly.  Derek might have chuckled, Stiles ignored it as he was tugged to the side, the sheet pulled up and laid over his bare back.  Fingertips drifted over his ribs just before Derek's arms wrapped around him.  Something brushed over his eyebrow and he wrinkled his nose before choosing to ignore that as well.   
            " _Love you_ ," and it was just a whisper of an admission in his ear.  Stiles felt vaguely uneasy with it.  His lips curled nonetheless and he kept his eyes closed.  Love.  Love was good…right?                   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me so hard you wouldn't even believe. I am truly sorry if it sucks I just literally have been fighting with it the last week and a half and I can't do it anymore. Also I realized I never linked you guys to a few important things.
> 
>  
> 
> [ Cast of OCs ](http://attolians.tumblr.com/post/20215010352)
> 
>  
> 
> [ Hale Family Tree ](http://attolians.tumblr.com/post/26751651237)
> 
>  
> 
> I'm not entirely sure Derek's family will come into play but just in case right?


	14. I Had to Try Everything

Stiles was awake before he really realized it.  He was wrapped tightly in Derek's arms, naked skin meeting at every turn.  _Right_ he reminded himself slowly _last night happened_.    
            "Oh god," he let out.  "Oh my god," he said much louder.  Derek shifted, groaning softly.  
            "Morning," he mumbled, kissing Stiles' shoulder.    
            "We had sex," Stiles blurted, "we had _sex_."  Derek chuckled and Stiles' chest heated.           
            "Yeah I remember," he offered.    
            "But-but we didn't…are we _mated_ now?  Of-officially?"  Derek pulled up, rubbing at an eye before looking down at him.    
            "No we're not mated.  That was just sex."  His arms loosened and he sat up, rolling his shoulders slowly.    
            "Oh," Stiles exhaled.  He sat up, gasping and slapping a hand on his stomach as pain flared.  He peeked under the sheet to see a red mark marring his skin.    
            "Are you okay?" Derek questioned, frowning at him.    
            "Uh," Stiles stalled, trying to remember what happened.  "I don't remember falling…"  Derek gripped the sheet then, pulling it out of his hand.    
            "Oh that," he mumbled, glancing up after another moment.  "I had a nightmare and sort of…I was still laying on you."    
            "A nightmare?"    
            "And then you were checking on me and I kind of just…ah let instincts take over."    
            "So you hit me in the stomach and then decided to have sex."    
            "Because you were so against the idea," Derek returned, blushing again.    
            "I'm just trying to follow your line of thinking here."    
            "There wasn't too much thinking going on.  Clearly."  Stiles nearly chuckled before frowning.  
            "Should I feel insulted?"  Derek laughed once.  
            "Maybe."  He leaned forward slowly and let his lips drift over Stiles'.  Stiles went tense in shock before relaxing slowly.  Things were different.  They were also still the same.  If that even made sense.

He was in a relationship now.    
            "Mm," he mumbled, flailing backwards, "need to brush my teeth," he explained in a rush before stumbling out of bed, very nearly tripping in the sheet.  He ran for the bathroom, trying to ignore the fact that he was naked.  And sticky.  _Okay shower_ he told himself.  _Everything will be fine_.  He snorted.  Yeah he was in a relationship for the first time with Derek freaking Hale and they'd had sex without actually deciding they wanted to have sex and now they were just kissing in bed and apparently this was something they were going to do now and he was actually concerned about his morning breath when his dad used to have to remind him to brush his teeth before he left for school.  He forced a deep breath, leaning on the sink.  Okay this wasn't a huge deal.  Right?  Right.  They'd had sex before.  Even though it was decidedly weirder sex.  It was still sex.  They were still like…well they were still the same they'd been before.  Yes.  Of course.  People have sex.  It's the twenty first century.  People have casual sex.  That could have been casual sex.  Totally.  Casual sex.  Yes.  In fact Stiles doesn't even remember all of it.  Towards the end there he might have been falling asleep again.  So everything was fine.  He blew out a quick sigh and grabbed his toothbrush before squeezing toothpaste onto it and shoving it in his mouth.  "Fine," he mumbled to himself as he started brushing.  "Casual," he mumbled as he brushed, "yeah fine.  _Fine_."  The door creaked open slightly and Derek dangled a pair of boxers through.  Stiles leaned and grabbed them, biting on the toothbrush and pulling on the boxers before grabbing the toothbrush and brushing again.  "Thanks," he mumbled, leaning forward to spit.    
            "Can I come in?" Derek questioned.    
            "Sure," Stiles answered, rinsing his brush.  Everything was fine he reminded himself.  Derek had pulled on his jeans but hadn't bothered to zip or button them and Stiles found himself swallowing as Derek entered the tiny room.  Derek crossed right to him, arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him close, he leaned into Stiles neck.  
            "You smell really good," he informed him quietly.    
            "It's your toothpaste."  Derek chuckled.  
            "Not what I meant."  He dropped a kiss to Stiles' shoulder before reaching around him for the toothpaste and his toothbrush. 

Stiles glanced to the mirror for the first time, eyes shooting wide.  His neck was a mosaic of pink, red, and purple.    
            "Jesus _Christ_ Derek!"    
            "What?" Derek mumbled around his toothbrush.  Stiles smacked him.  
            "What do you mean _what_?  Look at my neck."  Derek smirked quickly.  
            "I am."  Stiles huffed and Derek laughed thickly.  "It's instinctual to mark you.  I didn't bite you too badly."  He went back to brushing his teeth, looking entirely too innocent.  Stiles smacked him again before twisting out of his arms.  Derek pouted for a split second before brushing his teeth faster.    
            "Not gonna be able to walk down the street," Stiles was mumbling, "without everyone knowing what happened.  Derek coughed and spit before quickly rinsing his brush and turning to go.  Stiles frowned at him before setting his hands on his hips.  "Derek?"    
            "Stiles?" Derek returned, leaving the bathroom.  Stiles rushed to follow him.    
            "What was that?"  
            "Hm?"  Derek busied himself straightening the sheets and Stiles crossed his arms over his chest.    
            "You have something you need to tell me?"    
            "Not really."    
            "Didn't we just cover you not bullshitting me?  Do I need to keep a rolled magazine handy?"  Derek turned smoothly to face him, lips thin.  
            "You're not gonna get away with that again," he informed him seriously.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  
            "Fine so what's going on?"    
            "The good news is you don't have to worry about your neck."  Stiles frowned at him.  
            "Because…?"  
            "Because most of the settlement already heard us anyways."  His jaw flapped open.  
            " _What_?"    
            "We're werewolves," Derek dismissed quickly, "it happens." 

Stiles glared at him wordlessly for so long Derek began to shift uncomfortably before going back to the sheets.  Stiles shook his head slowly before crossing to the dresser and pulling clothes out mechanically.  He went back to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it without another word.  He got in the shower slowly and washed calmly.  So the entire settlement had heard him having sex.  Okay.  It wasn't like there was anything he could do about it now.  It had happened, it was over.  Done.  He cradled his head beneath the hot spray, forcing a deep exhale.  Stiles gave himself the rest of his shower to pout.  Once he was done toweling off he sighed and gave his entire body a few shakes.  Couldn't do anything about it.  It happens.  Just like Derek said.  Derek was on the futon, pretending to read.  He still hadn't bothered with a shirt but his jeans were closed which was a definite improvement.  "You're angry?" Derek murmured, just barely making it a question.    
            "No," Stiles answered honestly, "just…mortified."  Derek let the book drop to the carpet before patting the space next to him.    
            "Come here."  Stiles' lips curled as he crossed and dropped onto the futon, pulling his legs up and scooting closer until his legs were in Derek's lap and Derek's arm was around his shoulders.  "It's okay," Derek told him softly, leaning his head against Stiles'.    
            "Okay," Stiles agreed on a whisper, unsure how much he actually believed him.    
            "If you stayed here long enough you'd probably hear or see everyone having sex."  Stiles smiled just a bit.  
            "That's not really comforting."  
            "No?"  
            "Well I don't really want to see that so…"    
            "But at least they can't hold it over your head."    
            "I suppose that's true."    
            "If you're hungry," it sounded like Derek was smiling, "there's pancakes in the kitchen."    
            "You cooked again?"    
            "It might have partly been for you this time," Derek told him very quietly, "partly."  Stiles grinned.    
            "I am partly flattered then."    
            "You should be."   

There was a pause before Stiles laughed, Derek's lips curling in response.    
            "I do want pancakes," he admitted, "but I don't particularly want to walk."    
            "Hmm," Derek let out, "sounds like a problem."    
            "You could carry me you know.  I'm very compact.  Some might even say fun sized."  Derek's smile widened.  
            "Fun sized?"  Stiles' cheeks heated and he ignored it.    
            "Definitely.  Plus you're a werewolf so you're super strong."    
            "It's five steps to the kitchen," Derek told him, smile twisting to a smirk.    
            "Exactly so it'd be no trouble for you.  No trouble at all."    
            "It would be less trouble for you," Derek pointed out, fingertips drifting across the inside of Stiles' elbow.  Stiles blew out a sigh.  Derek kissed the corner of his mouth before pushing his legs away and standing.  He tossed back a smirk before going into the kitchen.    
            "Hey," Stiles protested.  Derek ignored him so Stiles flopped over and grabbed the discarded book, throwing it.  "You're supposed to be nice to me!"  Derek poked his head back out, expression thoughtful.  
            "Did I mention they're blueberry pancakes?"  Stiles rolled off the futon and hurried into the kitchen, grinning when Derek handed him a plate of pancakes.    
            "I could get used to this," he admitted, inhaling deeply.  Derek didn't comment, watching him with a smile that was crinkling the skin around his eyes.  Stiles tore off a piece of pancake and tossed it in his mouth, sighing as a gooey blueberry exploded between his teeth.  He staggered over to the fridge and leaned against it before looking to Derek again.  "You should cook like…all the time."  Derek chuckled and piled more pancakes on a plate for himself. 

Stiles ate until his stomach ached, then he dragged himself back to the living room and tossed himself on the futon.  He grumbled in protest when Derek followed, folding the futon down and climbing in too.  "Seriously," Stiles mumbled, face half in the cushion, "how come you don't cook every meal?  Because you can actually cook and I don't really understand the total hermitage okay."  Derek was quiet a moment before sighing.  
            "Cooking for one person loses its appeal rather quickly."    
            "Neighbors," Stiles muttered, not letting Derek deter him.  He propped himself up on an elbow.  "You live in a pack," he reminded him quietly.  "Most of them seem nice."  Derek blinked a few times.  
            "I'm sure they are."  Stiles laid back, stretching one of his legs over Derek's hips.  
            "We should throw a party."  Derek laughed sharply.  
            "What?  Why?"  Stiles shrugged, glancing to where Derek was curled in the corner.  
            "Don't know…could be a 'we had sex and you heard us' party.  Why not?"    
            "You're ridiculous."    
            "We've discussed this.  All I'm saying is that you should actually like socialize with the people you live with."    
            "Why?"  Stiles huffed at him.    
            "Because werewolves are pack creatures remember?"    
            "I've already got all the pack I need." 

Stiles inhaled and opened his mouth to argue again, thoughts stalling out when Derek stuck his tongue out.  It was so _not_ Derek that it totally threw him.    
            "Did you just stick your tongue out at me?"  Derek shrugged one shoulder in favor of answering.    
            "What do you want to do today?" he questioned, changing the subject.    
            "I didn't have any plans," Stiles returned dryly.    
            "I wouldn't mind getting out of here for a while," Derek said simply.  Stiles sighed exaggeratedly before tipping back and staring at the ceiling.    
            "Well I would love to join you but my neck looks like it has leprosy and remember what happened last time?"    
            "I'll buy you a scarf," Derek offered, words saccharine.    
            "Oh yes in the middle of spring.  That wouldn't look strange at all."    
            "We can get out of here and still avoid people you know."  Stiles pushed himself back up after a few beats of silence.    
            "I feel like blindly agreeing would be a mistake."  Derek smirked at him and Stiles struggled to swallow.    
            "Or we could always go for a run."  Stiles snorted before puffing out his cheeks and laying a hand over his stomach and groaning.  Derek chuckled quickly and Stiles peeked at him.  "Going out then?"    
            "Fine, fine," Stiles sighed, "but it better be something fun."   

Derek went shopping while Stiles sat in the car, fingers drumming on the shin that was draped across his knee, heel on the dash.  Derek wasn't in the store long but the bags were in the trunk before Stiles got a chance to see what was in them.  "You're not going to tell me what we're doing are you?"  
            "Foot off my dashboard," Derek said in response, getting in.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  He considered leaving it on until Derek told him but the way Derek's eyebrows pushed up as he turned to look at him made Stiles think it was a bad idea.  He sighed and pulled his leg back, dropping it to the floor.  Derek smirked briefly, turning the key in the engine before turning to him.  "Good boy."  Stiles scowled at him.  
            "How about we leave the dog jokes to the human?"  Derek didn't respond, glancing to the mirror before reversing out of the spot.  Stiles huffed after a few moments of pointed silence.  He pushed off the seat and fiddled with the radio before settling back.  "You're really not going to tell me?"  Derek smiled slightly before looking back to the road.  Stiles huffed again.  That was a 'no' then. 

Derek drove too fast for a while before pulling to the side of the road.  He turned to Stiles with yet another smile.  
            "Let's go."  Stiles paused with his hand on the handle.  
            "This isn't you bending me over a tree right?  There aren't bandages and salve in those bags are there?"    
            "What, you scared?"  
            "Should I be?" Stiles returned, swallowing.  Derek's lips curled again.  
            "Come find out."  He climbed out of the car then as Stiles chewed on his lip in thought.    
            "That sort of sounds like a threat!" he called after him.  Again Derek didn't answer, heading into the trees with plastic bags swinging in one hand.  Stiles shoved open the door and rushed to follow.  He had a feeling Derek would leave him at the car.  It would probably be some twisted pet joke of his own.  Derek was walking fast and Stiles jogged to catch up, shoving off the ground and wrapping his arms around Derek's neck on a whim.  Derek grunted and stumbled before straightening and taking another step.  Stiles hung off his neck for a moment before pulling with his arms and wriggling up Derek's body until his legs could wrap around his waist.    
            "Comfortable?"  Stiles shrugged, letting his chin rest on Derek's shoulder.  "I'm glad," Derek exhaled dryly.    
            "You're the one kidnapping me and dragging me to the middle of the freaking woods Derek.  I should at least get a ride.  And don't try to crack any jokes okay?"    
            "I'll leave the bad jokes to you," Derek laughed.  Stiles scowled briefly.  
            "I'm funny damn it."    
            "Maybe not in the ways you intend," Derek offered eventually.  Stiles scoffed, right in Derek's ear.  He wasn't entirely sure how Derek managed to dump him on the ground in retaliation. 

Stiles was still rubbing at his tailbone when they emerged from the trees.    
            "A lake?" he demanded.  "All this mystery for a lake?  May I remind you we are in _Washington_?  Are you trying to kill me?"    
            "You don't want to go swimming?" Derek questioned, bags dropping to the ground.    
            "You're insane," Stiles accused.    
            "Maybe," Derek allowed, smiling.    
            "That water's probably like twelve degrees," Stiles insisted, eyebrows pushing up.    
            "It's the middle of May Cupcake."  Stiles next line of argument was derailed as Derek let his head tip back, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it off.    
            "I am aware of the date," Stiles sniffed, crossing his arms and glancing away.  He really hadn't been like…marking off a calendar.  He'd been gone nearly six weeks though.  It didn't really seem possible.  Like on some level he still hadn't accepted that this was happening.  As if he was still waiting to wake up.  The bags rustled and Stiles got an eyeful of Derek as he pulled on swim trunks, tying them before ripping the tags off.  "This is not a good idea."  Derek shrugged one shoulder, smirking again.    
            "Stay here then, I got you a book."  Stiles scoffed, loudly.  
            "If you knew I wouldn't want to go swimming then why-"  
            "I didn't.  I just brought a backup plan in case you were scared."  Stiles glared at him.    
            "Very mature."  Derek didn't look apologetic as he loped towards the water.  He waded in up to his thighs before diving.  Stiles shuddered before bending to poke in the bags. 

Towels and another pair of trunks were in the first bag.  In the second there were two boxes of Pop-Tarts and three bottles of Mountain Dew.  Beneath them Stiles spotted the corner of a book and pulled it out, eyes narrowing.  He flicked the thin paperback over, rolling his eyes just at the character's name.  _Who the fuck names their child Rafe?  What does that even mean?  Is it even a_ real _name?_ His eyes scanned again.  "Last Chance Ranch?" he demanded aloud.  "Oh my god."  The corner of the front read _Harlequin Blaze_.  "You are not funny!" he yelled after Derek.  There was no response and when Stiles looked Derek was so far back he could hardly make out the shape of his head above the dark water.  "Yeah because guys always walk through meadows with their plaid shirts unbuttoned and looking _sensitive_."  He scoffed again before dropping to the ground, wincing on impact.  He really was going to have to remember to take it easy.  Sighing he tossed the book a few feet away.  He was going to get bored and he'd be damned if he just caved in a read the paperback romance Derek had bought him.  At least now he'd have to get up to go grab it.  He'd have to really be desperate before he cracked it open. 

Stiles tried not to be bored.  He really did.  In fact, you would think after all these years he would have mastered entertaining himself.  Unfortunately he hadn't.  By the time he'd eaten a pack of Pop-Tarts and drained one of the Mountain Dews Derek was still swimming.  He shredded the silver wrapper before feeling guilty and gathering the scraps to shove back in the box.  Next he peeled the label off the Mountain Dew, stuffing it inside the bottle when he couldn't tear it easily enough.  Derek didn't appear to be getting any closer to shore.  Stiles sighed.    
            "This is boring!"  Derek swam back, stopping with the water lapping at his ribs.    
            "I'm not bored," he called in response.    
            "Yeah you're gonna be a not bored icicle in another minute."    
            "It's not that cold."    
            "Says the one of us that can sprout fur at will."  Derek waded closer before swinging his hand through the water and sending a stream of it flying straight at Stiles.  Stiles yelped, his entire body tensing in reaction to the water that was in fact extremely cold.  "Oh my god," he let out, "oh my god."    
            "See?" Derek taunted, "Not that cold."    
            "I'm gonna kill you," Stiles gritted.    
            "From over there?"

Derek slunk deeper into the water as Stiles glared at him.  Stiles struggled to his feet before yanking off his hoodie, nearly vicious when it tangled at his wrist.  "Oh you're coming in?" Derek called, surprise lacing the words.    
            "Yes," Stiles informed him, looking down to toe out of his shoes, "and I'm gonna kill you."  He bent and yanked off his socks, trying not to wince at the cool stones beneath his bare feet.  _It's May_ he reminded himself.  He'd be fine.  Stiles hesitated briefly before pulling off his shirt.  There was a hickey on his chest and he didn't even remember Derek making that.  His breath hitched and his fingers curled slightly as the night before flared through his memory.  Heat flushed his cheeks and he was biting at his lips before he could stop himself.  _Cold water_ he thought somewhat desperately.  _Yes cold water would be good_.  He shook himself quickly before unbuttoning his jeans, pulling the zipper down and wiggling out of them.   Once his jeans were out of the way he paused, staring at the nearly black water.  Derek was pretty far out and it looked like he was grinning smugly.  Stiles gritted his teeth and rocked onto the balls of his feet.  He was going to regret this.  In fact he was 99% sure he was going to regret this.  But that had never stopped him before.  He was supposed to make stupid mistakes.  What else was he gonna have when he was like a hundred and two years old and sitting in a wheelchair on a nursing home's back porch?  _Okay that's a side note.  Focus_.  Derek was still smirking at him.  Stiles straightened his shoulders and walked towards the water.

He got one foot in before stopping and turning back towards the shore.  It took an exceptional amount of effort to stop himself from retreating.  A deep breath seemed to help and Stiles turned towards the water again.  His hands curled into fists as he moved further into the water.  It was inching past his ankles, so cold his skin was starting to burn.  He tried to think of times when he was too hot, boiling hot even.  It didn't help.  The water was teasing at his knees when Stiles stopped.  Water began to lap gently at his skin as Derek swam closer.  
            "Talk is cheap Cupcake."  Stiles chuckled, surprising himself as a shudder ran through him.    
            "I'm f-freezing."    
            "It's worse when you go slow.  Just jump in."    
            "And crack my head open?" Stiles challenged.  
            "You want some help?"    
            "N-nn," Stiles tried as Derek started wading towards him.  "You just stay over th-there."  Derek crossed his arms, one eyebrow arched.    
            "You're not moving," he pointed out eventually.    
            "Technically I am," Stiles snapped back.    
            "You're not."    
            "The Earth is spinning.  I am standing on the surface of the Earth.  So _technically_ I am moving."    
            "Clever," Derek muttered dryly. 

He moved forward again, undeterred by Stiles' glare.    
            "No," Stiles said, teeth clenched.  The look on Derek's face was entirely unsettling.  Like he'd let just a bit of the wolf out and Stiles was the selected prey.  Again.    
            "I told you it's easier if you do it all at once," Derek insisted.    
            "Do we really need to rehash the part where you're a werewolf?"  He needed to learn to stop provoking Derek.  But he hadn't yet and Derek lunged for him.  It was trying to dive out of the way that Stiles lost his footing.  Derek caught him, but not before half of Stiles' body had been dunked in the frigid water.  Derek's arms were wrapped around his ribs tightly, righting him and pulling him close.  "Oh my g-g-god," Stiles managed through chattering teeth.  "This was a _h-horrible_ idea!  I hate you s-s-so much right now!"    
            "Your body will get used to it eventually," Derek offered.    
            "B-before or after I d-d-die?" he demanded breathlessly.    
            "You're not going to die," Derek said patiently.    
            "You d-don't know that," Stiles' body shuddered violently, "y-you're all big and muscly," he leaned into Derek's body, seeking heat, "n-not to mention a werewolf!"  Derek's hands ran over his shivering torso, spreading heat as they went.  He curled against Stiles' back and Stiles relaxed just barely.  He was still freezing but Derek's skin against his was pleasantly hot.  "Was this your p-plan the whole time?" Stiles demanded.  Derek chuckled.  
            "I just like it here."  
            "I can't s-say the same."    
            "Come on," Derek sighed regretfully, "let's get you warmed up."  He swung Stiles into his arms and Stiles didn't protest, simply shivering again. 

Derek carried him past their makeshift camp and back to the car.  He deposited Stiles in the backseat, Stiles whining as they separated, and disappeared.  When Derek returned Stiles' teeth were chattering.  Derek turned on the engine and cranked the heat before throwing Stiles' hoodie in the backseat with him.  Stiles grabbed it with tense hands, trying to burrow into it.  The trunk opened and slammed closed.  Stiles still hadn't figured out a way to fit his entire body under the hoodie before Derek was squirming in the backseat with him.  Stiles only managed one syllable in protest before the heat radiating off Derek silenced him.  He sank against the body cramping his space willingly.  A sound very close to a moan escaped Stiles' lips without his permission.    
            "So warm," he breathed.    
            "You're still wet," Derek pointed out.    
            "Shut up," Stiles shoved his face into Derek's shoulder, "don't care," he mumbled.  Derek pulled his hoodie from where it was twisted between them and threw it over Stiles shoulders before pulling him closer.  "Still a bad idea," he mumbled as his eyes closed.  His body was suddenly urging him to sleep and he was very okay with that.  "You're bad at taking care of humans," Stiles continued, mouth running without his brain now.  Derek chuckled in his ear and Stiles felt himself smile.  "Not funny you could have died and this isn't _Titanic_ buddy." 

He paused.  Something wasn't right there.  "I could have died," he muttered after another moment.  "I.  Me.  The human."    
            "Stiles."  
            "Mm."  
            "Shut up."  
            "I wasn't tired five minutes ago," Stiles protested.  "An we slept like eighteen hours.  Or eight hours.  Or maybe not there was that break in between there."    
            "Either go back to sleep or I'm throwing you back in the lake to wake you up."  Stiles thought it was a hollow threat but he held tighter to Derek just in case.    
            "Fine.  Sensei is grumpy today."  Derek sighed at him and Stiles pulled up enough to stick out his tongue.  "If you use corny nicknames then so do I."    
            "Whatever you want.  Go to sleep."    
            "But I'm not supposed to be tired," Stiles whined.    
            "I'll make you a deal, you shut up for two minutes and then you can talk as much as you want."  Stiles bit his lip, sensing a trap.    
            "Okay…" he agreed slowly.  Silence fell.  Stiles was asleep before he realized he had no way to tell the time. 

When Stiles woke back up he was mostly seated in Derek's lap, their legs hanging off the seat.  Derek's arms were wrapped around him, a book propped on Stiles' stomach.  "You are not," he let out, stretching his toes, "reading that."    
            "You're sleeping on me," Derek returned calmly, "what do you propose I do?"    
            "Well that's your third horrible idea of the day," Stiles chided, pushing his arms off and sitting up before arching his spine and sighing as it cracked.    
            "The third?"    
            "Coming here, buying that book, and reading that book," Stiles ticked off, letting his body relax again.    
            "Would you prefer I listen to you breathe and count the seconds until you wake up?"  Stiles turned enough to grimace at him.  
            "Trust me when I say that you really do not need to get any creepier."  Derek's eyebrows pushed together.  
            "I'm not creepy."    
            "Yeah you are.  You don't interact with anyone other than me unless strictly necessary and you're always just kind of glaring off into space.  It totally reads serial killer."  
            "People are annoying," Derek said bluntly.    
            "Yeah so you have a point there," Stiles sighed.  He couldn't exactly go about defending the whole human race.  "I'm-"  
            "Pop-Tarts are in the front seat," Derek cut him off.    
            "Okay then."   

They stayed long enough for Stiles to eat, Derek still reading _Feels Like Home_ amidst all of Stiles' protests and gibes.  Stiles grew bored eventually and left him alone long enough to eat another packet of Pop-Tarts.  "What now?" he demanded, craning his neck again in order to see Derek.    
            "You're gonna have to get off me if you want to go anywhere," Derek pointed out.    
            "Right," Stiles agreed slowly.  He sighed and stretched his heavy muscles before pushing off Derek and squirming into the front seat.  Derek was laughing by the time he settled and Stiles realized that Derek was laughing a lot today.  He seemed really happy today actually.  Stiles sort of wanted to stop there and not read anymore into it but his mind kept going.  Derek flipped his seat down and opened his door before swinging out.  Stiles' eyes flicked to him and away.  He'd had sex with _Derek_.  Not Derek's wolf.  Derek.  Derek's eyes had gone blue a few times and he'd bitten him but he hadn't actually like…wolfed out.  He'd stayed human.  _How_ had he stayed human?  Stiles remembered Derek saying he couldn't control his wolf.  But then he'd said he'd let instinct take over.  Derek flipped his seat back into place, sinking into the car and glancing to Stiles.    
            "What?"  Stiles' jaw fell open gracelessly.  
            "What?" he echoed.    
            "You look confused," Derek elaborated.  Stiles scoffed while looking away.    
            "Do not."    
            "Okay you don't look confused you look like you're thinking very hard about something."    
            "No I'm fine I just," he paused and shook his head, "no I'm fine."  Derek frowned and him and Stiles willed himself not to blush.  "I just," he huffed out a breath, trying to explain it away without actually explaining anything, "I think crazy things sometimes and no one wants to know I know that okay because I'm spastic and I talk too much and everyone tells me to shut up all the time so it would really be better if I just started filtering myself."  Derek was still staring at him, frown deepening for a moment.  "So now I'm filtering myself?  Okay?"  His hands were curled in his lap and he inhaled shortly before looking down to them.

There was a long awkward silence and Stiles was half debating climbing out of the car and trying to escape when Derek gently cleared his throat.    
            "I don't want you to," he said, "I mean you don't have to.  Yeah you talk too much sometimes and then I have no problem telling you to shut up but if I'm asking what you're thinking or what's going on with you…I want to know."  Stiles' throat tightened unexplainably and he didn't know what to say.  Derek waited a few more moments before putting the keys in the ignition and twisting them.  Stiles blinked slowly wanting to say something, wanting to say the _right_ thing but his tongue felt too big for his mouth and his throat was tighter still.  How cruel for words to fail him now.  Stiles only seemed to have a problem with words when he actually needed them.  Any other given moment he could talk until he ran out of air but now, sitting not two feet from Derek…he had nothing.    
            "I don't know what to say," he admitted quietly.  Derek glanced to him and Stiles couldn't read his expression at all, which was new.    
            "It's okay."  Stiles closed his eyes.  That only made him feel worse.    
            "I really don't," he tried, "no one's ever said that to me before."  Well that sounded pathetic.  "I mean like no one has _actually_ ever told me they want to hear what I have to say."  His mother had never discouraged his ramblings and his father rarely actually said anything about them, he mostly pretended to pay attention like Scott did.  Not that Stiles blamed them.  Derek didn't say anything and Stiles thought he didn't know what to say either.  What a pair they made.

The ride back was silent.  Stiles didn't turn the radio on nor did he try to break it.  He felt listless, even his mind scanned over his thoughts quickly before sending them back into his unconscious.  He thought about fingers that stayed blunt and smooth.  Fangs that never appeared.  Arms holding him tight.  He supposed idly he'd have to ask Derek how he'd done it.  Like that wouldn't be an awkward conversation.  _So…about that sex we had_.  Still, the knowledge that they need to talk about it started to building.  It began innocently enough as tension in his neck.  It spread to his shoulders and eventually slipped right down his arms and into his hands.  All the while it was still moving, up to his jaw and down through his chest, straightening his spine too.  By the time they rolled through the gate of the settlement Stiles felt like he was going to burst.  He wasn't sure how he had become the instigator in this relationship.  He wasn't sure why he was the one doing the confronting and the talking.  Usually he was much better at avoidance.  He was practically a master of it.  They rolled to a stop outside Derek's house and Stiles released a sigh that he thought he'd been holding for hours.  Derek cut the engine but didn't move.  Stiles wondered if he'd always been this easy to read or if Derek had learned.    
            "We need to talk."  The words were almost hollow.  It didn't matter; they both already knew it was coming.  Derek dipped his chin and Stiles wasn't sure if it was a single nod or simply acceptance. 

"About last night…well I guess this morning," Stiles began, biting his lip after another moment.    
            "I'm sorry," Derek said in the next beat of silence, "if you want me to be sorry then I'm sorry."  Stiles was intrigued by the turn of events and his lips moved before he could stop them.  
            "Sorry for what?"  Derek looked panic stricken and Stiles shook his head.  "Don't answer that."  It was only going to get one of them or both of them into trouble.  "I just…I have some questions."    
            "Yeah," Derek breathed out, "I thought you might."    
            "Oh.  Okay."  That was good.  That had to be good.  At least…it sounded good.  "I just I mean like…you ah you," he paused to run a hand over his head, "you didn't you know _change_."    
            "Oh," Derek echoed, " _oh_.  You want to talk about _that_."  He chuckled and Stiles swallowed nervously.    
            "What else would I want to talk about?"  Derek blinked at him, lips pursed.  As if Stiles was purposely missing the point.  Stiles rolled his eyes after another second, sighing quickly.  "Whatever so how exactly did you manage not getting all furry?"  Derek's lips curled into a self satisfied smile.  
            "I wanted to stay human so badly it was easy."    
            "That's it?  That's the answer?"  Derek pulled the keys from the ignition and opened his door before looking back.  
            "You should be flattered," he informed him.    
            "You just," Stiles paused his protest to climb out of the car, palm slapping flat against the roof, "you just thought about it and that was enough?  You just meditated on it?  What?"  Stiles' voice increased in volume the further Derek got and it took another minute for him to realize he was standing out in the open wearing only boxers.  He yanked the hoodie off the seat and slammed the door before hurrying after Derek.    

"That is so not the end of this discussion," Stiles announced as the door shut behind him.    
            "You're the one that wants more privacy," Derek called from upstairs.    
            "Okay," Stiles murmured, "you have a point."  He pulled on his hoodie and zipped it before shoving his hands in the pockets and climbing the stairs.  "So seriously," he entered the bedroom, turning away quickly as Derek pulled on boxer briefs, "you just had to think about it?  I thought it was more of a problem than that."    
            "The bond helped."    
            "It can do that?" Stiles demanded.  There was a long silence and Stiles looked up to see Derek staring back at him.  
            "I feel more in control around you."    
            "Even when…"  Derek smirked and Stiles had a feeling he should have left well enough alone.    
            "Yes," he agreed, " _even when_..."    
            "Oh," Stiles exhaled eyes wide.  "That's good," he continued, voice going so high it nearly cracked.  This would be one of the key times for him to shut up, he could feel it.  "I-I mean safer.  Yeah."  Derek's eyes flashed blue and for a moment his grin was almost too full of teeth.  Stiles felt his heart pick up.  Derek took a step forward and the wolf melted away as if it had all been a trick of the light.    
            "We could see which you prefer," Derek offered, moving closer still.  Stiles nearly choked on his next inhale.  
            "Oh my god," he managed just as Derek's hands slid through the gape of his jacket, fingertips scraping over ribs.  Derek growled low in his throat and Stiles felt claws pressing against his skin.  " _Oh my god_."  Derek spread his arms, zipper humming down as it was forced apart.  It felt like Stiles' heartbeat was reverberating through his entire body.    
            "If you're not opposed to the idea," Derek whispered in his ear, claws lifting away before hands pulled him closer, spanning across his back.  Stiles managed a whimper in response.  Derek leaned to his neck, a hot breath ghosting over Stiles' skin. 

            "It sort of," he paused to drag in a breath, "sounds like you're trying to, ah, seduce me."  Derek's mouth latched onto his neck, sucking hard.  Eyes rolling back, Stiles supposed that was the only answer he was going to get.  Derek picked him up easily, carrying him to the bed before dropping him onto it.    
            "You gonna tell me to stop?"  It was almost a challenge as Derek grinned down at him and Stiles felt his stomach flip.    
            "I-um-probably not."  Derek leaned down torturously slow, probably giving Stiles every last moment to back out.  Even with his heart hammering in his throat he didn't dare move and Derek's mouth caught his.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know look at me teasing again..it just happens! I honestly didn't intend for this chapter to go this way but...it did. All I can promise is that we haven't seen the last of Peter. Also I seriously expected you guys to catch on to the anchor thing I thought it was so obvious that I was adding it!


	15. I Can't Seem to See Straight

"Oh my _god_ Derek _please_ are you trying to murder me?" Stiles panted raggedly.  Derek laughed against his skin, teeth poking out to bite at his stomach once more.  Stiles groaned, back arching as he tried to get more contact.  His hands twisted in the sheets uselessly, as they'd been doing for what felt like a small eternity.  Derek pulled his thighs apart again, settling between the trembling limbs.  Stiles groaned again.  "No, no, please Derek you're _killing_ me."   
            "You don't want to come again?" Derek demanded, a growl chasing the words.  Stiles shook just at the thought of it.  
            "A _third_ time?  Oh god Derek please seriously I'm going to die."  Derek pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh before biting with blunt teeth.  Stiles squirmed.  He was fairly sure Derek had done every pleasurable thing that could be done to his body.  With one last quick lick Derek crawled up his body, hovering over him.   
            "So you wanna stop right now?" he questioned, peppering kisses along Stiles' jaw.   
            "Mm, going to die," Stiles protested faintly.   
            "That wasn't a yes."   
            "Derek please."   
            "Please what?"   
            "Will you fuck me already?" Stiles demanded.  Derek grinned for just a moment.   
            "How do you want me?"  Stiles trembled as he flushed.  God that should not be as hot as it was.   
            "Immediately."  Derek nipped his jaw before moving to his mouth.  
            "You know what I mean," he said against Stiles' lips.   
            "Oh god I want everything," Stiles admitted, shaking again, "give me everything."  Derek growled, muscles rippling as the change overtook him. 

Stiles kissed him desperately.  In some dark part of his brain he felt this shouldn't turn him on but it did.  Sharp teeth and hints at fur.  When he was a wolf but still man as well.  Plus he kind of wanted Derek to lose control.  It would be a small payback for all the torture he'd been putting Stiles through.  "Hurry please," he gasped out, making the effort to spread his heavy legs.  Derek pulled one of his legs up and over his hips, claws trailing along Stiles' calf.  He whimpered, half in the pain of anticipation.  God his lungs were pressed so tight he could hardly breathe.  He felt ridiculously close to just bursting into tears or simply dying.  Dying sounded better.  Derek bit his throat, fangs indenting his skin as Stiles' heart throbbed at the action.  "Derek," he pleaded, the name ending on a hiss as Derek finally slid inside.  Derek had already teased him over the edge with what Stiles was sure was going to remain the best hand job of his life and then again simply stretching him open with his fingers.  Not to mention all the biting and scratching and teasing of pain along every centimeter of bare skin.  He trembled again, which he couldn't seem to _stop_ doing.  His hands were up and over Derek's back, gripping at the ridges of muscle.  One hand skated into his hair and he gripped tight before pulling.  Derek growled and Stiles' eyelids slammed shut.  He felt ridiculously over stimulated, nearly every nerve ending burning in protest.  But he didn't think he ever wanted it to stop either.  A broken groan couldn't be helped as Derek started to swell inside him.  Derek shoved in roughly and Stiles yelled hoarsely.  "Oh god, oh god," he panted weakly against Derek's neck.  "So good damn..."   
            "You're so…" Derek breathed, cutting off to kiss him again.  Stiles clutched him tighter.  
            "Mm you're killing me," Stiles mumbled, "but it feels sooo good."  Derek rocked his hips just barely, Stiles groaning again as their bodies stayed locked together.  "Fuck," he let out. 

Stiles drew his legs tighter around Derek, one around his hips the other around his legs.  Derek stayed unbearably close, eyes glowing blue.  Stiles couldn't take it anymore, snaking a hand between them and wrapping his fingers around his cock.  He couldn't help crying out even with the first tentative touch.  It was too much sensation but he needed to feel that sharp relief again.  He gave a quick stroke, whining between his gritted teeth.  Derek hummed against his skin, teeth gliding teasingly.  "Fuck," Stiles managed again.  Derek's hands settled on his hips, claws pricking the skin.  Stiles' hips jerked as his orgasm slammed into him.  He couldn't help a long groan.  He sounded like he was in pain.  Maybe he was.  Maybe he just hadn't realized yet.  Derek bit into his shoulder, breaking the skin, heat welling through the surface.  Another weak groan and then Derek was coming inside of him, hot spurts that sent entire waves of heat up and over Stiles.  He lay under Derek and trembled, unable to even form words.  He couldn't do anything but tremble and breathe; sort of surprised he could manage both.  His body felt boneless.  It felt half alive.  His heart stuttered languidly as Derek lapped at the blood on his skin.   
            "Sorry," he breathed, pulling up and blinking the blue away.  Stiles snorted, letting his eyes close.  The knot was disappearing rapidly and Stiles was in wonder at how quickly Derek could make the change now.  Especially that specific part of it.  He was tempted to blush even with Derek still inside of him.   
            "Don't even worry about it."  He was silent for a few moments and Stiles peeked up to find Derek watching him.   
            "Shower?" Derek questioned as he averted his eyes.  Stiles snorted again.  
            "You can go shower.  I'm going to stay right here and pass the fuck out."   
            "No you're not.  You'll feel better after you shower."  Stiles' protests cut off on a squeak as Derek lifted him, sliding out and then back in.   
            "Oh Jesus," he groaned. 

It was true.  Stiles felt better as soon as the hot water hit his skin.  Derek blocked the spray until it was warm enough and then gently set Stiles on his feet.  It was almost embarrassing how taken care of Stiles felt.  Then again it was because of Derek that he couldn't really walk under his own power so he supposed Derek owed him in a way.  Stiles wrapped one arm around Derek's neck and leaned against him, sighing as Derek's hands smoothed over his skin.  A shower somehow turned into a massage and other than a grumble about this _not_ turning into a happy ending Stiles didn't protest.  Turned out Derek was really really good at massages.  Or maybe he just like knew where to touch Stiles, how to touch him.  Because of the bond or something.  Stiles would experiment on him but he was too tired.  "Okay enough shower," he grunted, "bed."  Derek reached to turn the water off, one arm still wrapped around Stiles' back.  "For sleep," Stiles clarified, because he felt he should.   
            "Mmhmm," Derek agreed quietly.  He wrapped a thick towel around Stiles' shoulders and Stiles glanced to the mirror, reaching to swipe through the layer of condensation.   
            "Huh," he exhaled, "that's…not as bad as I thought."  He certainly didn't look like he'd just been mauled by a werewolf.  In fact his neck looked a lot better.  He must have been peering at his skin for too long because Derek chuckled, grabbing a towel for himself.  "How?"   
            "How what?"  
            "You made me your personal like…chew toy.  But I'm fine."   
            "Not too sore?"   
            "How nice of you to check now," Stiles exhaled dryly.   
            "You're not as fragile as you look and we both know it."  For some reason Stiles fought the urge to blush at that.   
            "Thanks?"  Derek ran a hand through his hair and grinned at him.  Stiles paused as his heart thumped a bit heavier in his chest.  _God_.  That was…but he didn't want to examine it.  He didn't want to acknowledge it. 

It was a relief when Derek left, toweling off his hair as he went.  Stiles dried himself slowly, examining the places he remembered Derek biting and scratching.  There were marks but they were faint.  As if they'd been made a few days ago.  Stiles frowned to himself.  That wasn't possible.  Or at least it shouldn't be possible.  He wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way to the bedroom.  "Derek?"  The bedroom was empty and Stiles wandered down the stairs.  "Did you do something to me?" he added, approaching the kitchen.  Derek turned from the open fridge, smirking at him in nothing but a pair of jeans.  Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.  "Asides from the obvious.  Obviously."  He set his hands on his hips before gesturing to his torso.  "I mean this.  Care to explain yourself?"   
            "We should start working out again.  You're starting to lose some definition," Derek said before turning back to the fridge.  Stiles' jaw dropped open.   
            "That is _not_ what I was referring to.  Rude."  Derek's lips might have twitched, he wasn't sure.   
            "You hungry?" Derek questioned, shooting him another quick glance.  Stiles huffed.  
            "You can't tell me I'm _losing definition_ ," he used air quotes rather than rolling his eyes, "and then offer to feed me it's not like I have a good record with decision making."   
            "So we'll work out later."   
            "You're trying to distract me," Stiles accused.  "We're talking about this," he didn't gesture to himself again, unsure what he would do if Derek made another jab at his body.  "Explain how I've suddenly developed healing powers please."  Derek shut the fridge with a sigh, leaning against it before looking back to Stiles.   
            "You haven't," he said finally. 

            "Oh _really_ ," Stiles countered.  
            "Can we just not talk about this right now?"  
            "Derek seriously just tell me.  Don't make this a big deal."   
            "The bond is getting stronger.  I'm more in tune with you.  It's easier to heal you."  Stiles blinked rapidly, stomach dropping as if water had just closed over his head.  He pushed the confused panic back, blinking once and drawing in a deep breath.  
            "I'm sorry.  _Easier_?"  Derek nodded once, cheek dipping as he bit it.  Stiles did roll his eyes then, losing his patience.  "Reverting back to the mysterious silences are you serious?"   
            "Well…" Derek looked uncomfortable.  "It's not like you're sticking around.  I'm not exactly supposed to tell you everything."  It was sort of stunning the way that Stiles remembered precisely how it felt to get tackled in lacrosse practice.  Maybe even more stunning that Derek could make him feel that way with just a few words.  Like a jab with the end of a stick right in the middle of his ribs.  Then an elbow sharp to his back.  Finally, mercifully at this point, the unstoppable force that propelled him to the ground.   
            "That's not fair," he exhaled.   
            "It's true isn't it?"  Stiles had to pause there and take a breath.  The panic from before was rising in him again.  Derek looked upset.  He looked more than upset.       
            "That's not fair either."   
            "I don't care if it's fair Stiles.  You're not staying.  You're not planning on staying.  I'm not sure what either of us is playing at."   
            "What?"  He inhaled quickly, mind starting to race as he tried to avoid saying anything that would start a fight.  As if it could even be avoided at this point.  "Where is this-?  We were just-  You can't keep doing this to me!  I think everything is fine and then you just rip the rug out from under me that's not fair Derek!"  _Oh well that was brilliant_ his mind supplied.   
            "Is that all you're going to say?  This isn't fair to me either."  Stiles bit his lip.  Hard.  He couldn't say the first words his brain provided.  _This is your fault.  You_ chose _me.  I didn't ask for this._

            "We were fine."  It was almost desperate, the way that he said it.  "We were just fine."  He searched Derek's expression with the same urgency, trying to read his mind.  "Weren't we fine?"   
            "I was trying," Derek said with a quick, bitter smile.  "It was easy.  For a minute.  I stayed human.  I pulled the wolf back.  And it was easy.  It was easy to be human for you.  But that's not what you wanted.  It's what you need but it isn't what you want Stiles.  And I can't give you what you want andwhat you need.  It has to be one or the other."  Stiles had to close his mouth to swallow and gather what he wanted to say.      
            "I never asked you to be human Derek."  He thought he saw it then.  Derek's attempts; holding the wolf back and leaving the settlement so it was just them, it seemed obvious once it was pointed out.  "I would never ask-"  
            "I know."   
            "Then why-"  
            "Because I can't leave.  I can't leave and look over my shoulder.  Worry every time you're running late or don't answer your cell phone.  I can't leave the security a pack offers.  And you won't stay."  Stiles made a quiet, upset sound.  His lungs wouldn't open fully and his heart was beginning to pound against the muscles holding it in place.   
            "You've been thinking about this.  About _us_?  You've been thinking about what it would be like…"  His fingers trembled.  "I didn't even ask you to I mean not that it's healthy the whole human thing but-"  
            "I knew it was what you wanted," Derek cut off his verbal flailing firmly.  Stiles blushed and he tried to ignore it.   
            "But if it was just going to lead to this," he protested on a whisper.   
            "It always leads back to this," Derek muttered.  "If we totally ignore everything we shouldn't ignore things are great between us.  The bond is strong, probably natural.  And I-" he cut off, biting at his lip and looking away quickly, "I _want_ you so badly.  But it will never work."  He pushed off the fridge and paced two steps before stopping.  "I wish I could be mad at you.  I wish you'd just let it go and we could have just kept pretending, for a few more days.  I could have kept pretending at least." 

Stiles wished he'd let it drop too.  But how was he supposed to know to tip toe around Derek being a werewolf?  It sort of was the entire basis of their relationship.         
            "I didn't know," he mumbled.  It was never a land mine if you knew you were stepping on it.  "So we're fighting again," he sighed.  He wished he'd dressed before he came down.  
            "We're not fighting we're just not…compatible."  Stiles scowled at him.  
            "I know you did not just say we are incompatible.  Not after all this shit."   
            "Our situations then."  Stiles didn't have an argument for that.  It wasn't just that he wouldn't stay.  He couldn't.  Three months was bad enough.  Forever?  No.  He couldn't.   
            "So what are we going to do about our incompatible situations?"  Derek shook his head again.  
            "I don't know."  Stiles sighed.  But Derek had described it so accurately.  When they ignored the things they shouldn't ignore things were perfect.  The sex was hot and mind numbing and they'd finally figured out the communication.  Stiles knew the ghosts of Derek's past and he even wanted to try and fix him.  Derek calmed him down in a way that he didn't fully understand.  Derek wanted to hear what he thought.  But simmering just under the surface was this.  This deadline hanging over their heads.  And they couldn't be after that.   
            "Well don't try to be human anymore," he said first.   
            "I wouldn't do any good," Derek returned dryly.  Stiles didn't tell him he didn't see it doing any good the first time around.   
            "So we…go back…to being friends?" Stiles said haltingly.   
            "I don't know."  He nodded and chewed on his lip.   
            "I'm going to dress," he let out eventually, turning away.  "I'm not hungry." 

He dropped onto the bed and closed his eyes.  Pain was flaring in his chest and he knew it wouldn't be long before it broke free.  Tucking a pillow into his arms he rolled into the other one and buried his face in it.  It wasn't fair.  He wanted to stay.  He wanted things to be okay.  But he couldn't just abandon his life.  The door opened quietly and Derek hesitated, one hand on the knob, the other on the frame.  Stiles' eyes burned and he pushed his face back into the pillow.  Derek was in the bed with him, pulling him close, before Stiles' lips had opened to protest.  He curled his body into Derek's before pushing his face into Derek instead of the pillow.  "Can we pretend?" he asked weakly, eyes wet.  "Can we just pretend for a little while?"  Derek hauled him closer.  
            "Why?" he breathed, "It wouldn't help anything.  Not really."   
            "Why did you want to pretend then?"   
            "It's easier pretending."  Stiles' heart squeezed painfully in his chest.      
            "Then let's pretend."  He wrapped his arms tightly around Derek.  "Just a little while longer."  Derek's fingers ran through his hair before settling at the nape of his neck.  
            "Alright."  He dropped a kiss on the part of Stiles' forehead he could reach.  "A little while longer."  Stiles felt better and worse at the same moment.   
            "Good."  It was an answer for now and that's what he focused on.  They would be okay.  Just for now. 

They didn't talk much after that.  Not even into the next day.  Stiles chose the escape of a book and Derek selected a different one.  It was always so much easier to dive into someone else's problems.   
            "I have to go to work," Derek said finally.  "Do you want to come?"  Stiles glanced up.  He hadn't been expecting that.   
            "Yeah," he said, swallowing.  "Yeah I'll come."  Pulling on his shoes Stiles realized he had no idea what exactly going to work with Derek entailed.  Still he'd already agreed and he didn't really want to spend the next several hours alone.  He sighed and grabbed a hoodie, tugging the hood up as he descended the stairs.  Derek was waiting by the door and Stiles didn't have to force a small smile as their eyes met.  It was sort of…tangled and bittersweet.  Both agreeing to pretend.  Stiles should feel bad for asking for it.  He's mostly sure he should anyways.  But he doesn't know what else to do.  It seems like all they can do is pretend.  Just pretend they don't already know it's going to end.  Trying to stop it had done no good.  Why try anymore?  "So what are you teaching tonight?" Stiles asked once they'd been on the road for about fifteen minutes.   
            "Kick boxing, advanced kick boxing, and self defense."   
            "You teach self defense?"   
            "Yeah," Derek smiled, "I'm pretty good at it too."   
            "I'm sure your students are all desperately in love with you," Stiles teased.   
            "Actually it's my favorite class because they're not.  They're not there for fun.  They're there to learn.  Not to mention it's the most useful in everyday life."   
            "Why is it so different from your other classes?"   
            "Because most people think it will never happen to them.  They think they'll never be attacked.  They don't even conceive anything worse than a mugging.  Most of them know someone.  A friend, a sister, maybe their mother.  Sometimes it was them.  They aren't learning self defense because of me."   
            "Oh," Stiles managed quietly.   
            "I could teach you some too," Derek offered haltingly, "if you wanted."  Stiles rolled his eyes.  
            "My dad is a sheriff remember?  I know basic self defense."  Derek nodded once.  
            "Good."   

            "So what exactly am I going to be doing?" Stiles questioned.  "While you're teaching class I mean."   
            "Well you can either participate, use the gym, the pool, or hang out in the back."  Stiles perked up at this.  
            "There's a pool?  _Awesome_."  Derek smiled as he shook his head.   
            "You are such a child."  
            "Um, exactly.  Fuck growing up I'm not doing it."  Derek shook his head again.  
            "Aren't you a little old to be playing Peter Pan?"   
            "Ha!  Never."  Stiles grinned at him.  
            "Ridiculous," Derek told him but he was smiling so Stiles let it go.  Silence settled between them and Stiles might have accidentally spent the rest of the ride casting his own version of _Peter Pan_.  Jackson as the villainous Hook, until Mr. Harris took his place.  Coach Finstock as the lovable but misguided Smee.  Scott got to be the entire cast of the lost boys…maybe Danny too.  Lydia was a perfect Tinker Bell and Derek was his werewolf Wendy.  Pretty apt as Peter and Wendy didn't end up together either.  Stiles didn't divulge this to Derek for that reason…and the idea of Derek as a curly haired blonde in a nightgown would probably get Stiles mauled.  To death.  Best to just keep this to himself.  Definitely. 

The woman at the front desk was mystified.  She stared unabashedly at Stiles both before and after explaining that Derek had never, literally she wasn't kidding, _never_ brought a visitor in with him to get a visitor's pass.  Stiles did his best to smile innocently while deliberately _not_ equating this with meeting the parents.  He truly was ridiculous.  With the bracelet securely on Stiles trailed after Derek to the locker room, averting his eyes the second time his tongue darted out to wet his lips.  "So," Derek addressed him, tugging the hem of his shirt into place, "what are you gonna do?"  Stiles pursed his lips as he thought.  
            "Well I have to observe at least one class."  
            "My advanced class will leave you in the dust," Derek offered with a smile.  
            "Regular kickboxing then," Stiles said, sticking his tongue out.  Derek pulled another pair of shorts from his locker and tossed them to Stiles.  
            "Don't forget it was your idea."   
            "Of course not _Mr. Hale_ ," Stiles did his best to simper.  He yelped when Derek lunged, body caging his against the lockers.  The only response to Stiles' glare was a lightning fast smile and a barely there press of lips against his mouth.  
            "Get changed or we'll be late."  The words ghosted across his cheek and Stiles forced himself not to shiver. 

God this was a mistake.  This was _such_ a mistake.  Derek's thin grey t-shirt was already damp with sweat and clinging in the most teasing way possible.  Then he had on navy blue gym shorts, feet bare on the floor.  God his legs.  Stiles had never like actually _noticed_ them before.  But the way the muscles just glided under his skin.  The definition.  Stiles was having a drool problem.  And the things he could do.  Stiles groaned again, glad that most of the class thought he was having issues with the workout.  Apparently Derek's class got visitors fairly often.  No one had even asked who he was.  Stiles was okay with not making a scene, even though it was obvious that nearly a third of the class was full of tittering fan girls.  The knowledge that Derek couldn't stand them went a long way to helping Stiles deal with them.  He had nothing to be jealous of.  He just had to keep reminding himself of that.   
            "Um, Mr. Hale?" one of the barely dressed girls questioned, "Could you show us the takedown from last week again?"  Stiles paused and set his hands on his hips to judge her more properly.  She was only wearing a baby blue sports bra and black shorts so short they were practically underwear.  Stiles squinted.  Maybe they _were_ underwear.  His nose wrinkled.   
            "Oh yeah," another added, "I can be the other body."  She ran her fingers through her pony tail before flipping it over her shoulder.  Stiles had the urge to growl at her.  Derek wince/smiled just enough to show his teeth.   
            "Actually how about our new meat instead?  Stiles?"  Stiles already approved of this.  He didn't even know what the takedown was.  He didn't care.   
            "Stiles?" one of the girls questioned, sounding offended.   
            "Yes _Mr. Hale_?"  Derek's lips twisted and he crooked a finger.  The people in front of Stiles parted and he could practically feel the glares on the back of his head as he made his way to the front of the room. 

Derek gripped his hips and spun him quickly.  He nearly choked on a gasp, feeling his cheeks heat.   
            "Ready?" he whispered.   
            "Um," was all Stiles managed.   
            "Now," Derek was addressing the class again.  "You want to start with a strong stance.  You're not getting anything done without that.  Only try this if you know you can pull it off because otherwise it's going to leave you vulnerable.  For example if you're in front don't try to move behind just to do this.  You won't make it."  Stiles didn't hear Derek move but he could very nearly feel it.  His eyes drifted down to see Derek's foot working between his.  Two seconds later he was on the mat.  Derek smirked for a good three seconds before offering a hand.   
            "So you two like…know each other?" the first girl demanded, lips pursed in a snarl.  Stiles grinned at her.  He couldn't help it.  Derek hadn't dropped his hand yet and Stiles yanked, succeeding in propelling his body into Derek's.  His free hand went to the back of Derek's neck, sweetly damp with sweat, and he kissed him.  Someone behind them actually gasped and Stiles wanted to laugh.  His stomach felt like soda.  Breath was knocked out of him roughly as he landed on the mat again.   
            "Maybe you should hit the showers," Derek suggested, cheeks faintly flushed.   
            "But if I shower now you can't join me," Stiles pointed out before he could stop himself.   
            " _Stiles_ ," Derek growled.   
            "Going," Stiles yelped.  He rolled and shoved off the mat before hurrying back through the aisle of people and towards the locker room.  If he paused at the door to shoot one last satisfied glance at Kickboxing Barbie it was only for him to know. 

Stiles had barely sunk onto one of the benches, debating the pool or a shower, when the door slammed open.  
            "That was totally inappropriate," Derek gritted.  He sounded a bit breathless and Stiles' stomach squeezed.   
            "I know," he admitted, running a hand over his hair.  "But those _girls_."   
            "Those students in my class you mean?"  Stiles sulked a moment before nodding.   
            "Yeah.  Thosewhores."   
            "Stiles," Derek sighed.  "This is my job.  You could have really messed that up."   
            "Well I know I'm only temporary," Stiles forced out, "but for now you're mine.  Maybe I wanted them to know that."  Derek looked stunned.   
            "Oh," he let out eventually.  He crossed the room slowly, crouching in front of Stiles.  "They're just girls in my class."   
            "I know."  He was sulking again.  Derek's hands settled on his thighs, thumbs tracing small circles.   
            "What about your next class?"   
            "I have a few minutes," Derek told him.  Stiles didn't realize right away what Derek was doing.  He was calming him down.  Soothing the jealousy and anger in the bond with his proximity.  He sighed, feeling his shoulders slump as the breath left his lungs.   
            "I'm sorry," he said eventually.   
            "It's not a big deal," Derek told him.   
            "If it helps," Stiles told him, tongue flicking over his lips, "it was only partly the whores."  Derek smirked slowly.  
            "Oh?"   
            "You're a really hot teacher."  Derek's smirk widened.  
            "Oh?"  His hands slid down about two inches before moving up again, under the fabric of the shorts.  Stiles swallowed with a bit of difficulty.  "You never said that while I was helping you work out." 

He had to work to untangle his tongue from his teeth.  
            "You were personally-ah-trying to torture me."   
            "Maybe," Derek admitted quietly.  Stiles bit down on his curse as Derek's hands inched higher.  When Derek pulled his hands back out and stood Stiles' jaw fell open.   
            "Derek what the fu-"  
            "I have class."   
            "But you just-you were just-" Stiles spluttered, unable to properly form a sentence.   
            "See you in an hour and a half."   
            "You…you tease!"  Derek paused and turned back.  
            "And you're not?  Kissing me in a class full of people?"  Stiles jaw dropped open.  
            "I didn't do that to tease you!"  Derek just smirked before turning again and heading for the door.  Stiles huffed.  "Well I'm going to jerk off in the shower!  Twice!"  Stiles nearly fell off the bench when two men walked in, towels over their shoulders.  One arched an eyebrow while the other just chuckled.  Stiles waved miserably, ducking his head and waiting for them to walk away.  That didn't kill the mood or anything.  He ran both hands over his hair, nails digging in briefly.  He wondered suddenly if the second pair of trunks Derek bought were still in the car.  He hadn't used them so…  Stiles stood and pulled open Derek's locker, leaning in as his hand searched jacket pockets.  The inside of the locker smelled like leather and Derek.  The smells were nearly synonymous anyways and Stiles took a few moments to appreciate it.  His fingers curled over the keys and he just stayed still, holding them.  After another moment Stiles felt a bit creepy so he stepped back and pulled the keys out, closing Derek's locker before heading out to his car.  He offered the woman at the desk a wave and a smile.  She winked at him.  His cheeks heated again and he tried to ignore it. 

The walk back to Derek's car was shorter and Stiles thought it must be because his mind was so busy.  He was busy thinking about Derek and trying very hard to _not_ remember their current status as _pretending_.  Because pretending was really an awful word and if he thought about it long enough it burned in his chest and left a bitter taste sitting under his tongue.  He didn't _want_ to be pretending.  But it wasn't as if there was another solution.  They'd already talked about that.  Stiles couldn't stay.  Derek had admitted he couldn't leave.  But he'd thought about it.  He'd thought about leaving and that made Stiles dizzy.  Just a bit.  Dizzy enough that he ended up leaning against the back of the car instead of actually looking for the swimming trunks he came out for.  Derek is like a carnival, he decided after an unknown amount of minutes.  He's like a carnival because he's scary and a bit strange but beneath that he's so…sweet.  Like cotton candy melting across his tongue.  He's sweet like summer air.  And he makes Stiles ache.  Like a moment he wants to hold onto forever.  He never wants to lose this feeling.  He never wants to lose Derek.  And it was then, finally, that Stiles realized.  Standing on the street, leaning against Derek's car, looking off into the distance at nothing in particular, Stiles realized that Derek was like a carnival.  And that he loved him.  It was so mind blowing.  Not the carnival analogy.  It was passable at best.  But the fact that Stiles loved him.  Not just that it was complicated.  Not that he had _feelings_.  But the love.  He remembered before absently.  Before: when he thought that he loved Lydia Martin.  When he thought that he knew what love was.  That that was in fact, love.  But that compared to this was so…thin.  Brittle and breakable and really not worth thinking about at all.  He loved Derek.  He was in love with Derek.  "Shit," he exhaled, clicking his teeth together. 

It seemed to pull him out of his haze and his eyes focused as his hand flicked the keys aimlessly.  But his eyes locked on a man only a few feet away.  A face he recognized.  To Stiles the moment of recognition took an oddly long time.  Like the movies when the audio fades out and everything is suddenly in very slow motion.  That was the man.  The one who was staring at him.  The one they'd run from.  Stiles could still remember the way he smiled at him.  He didn't have any trouble at all recalling it in fact because the man was wearing the same expression now.  He started towards Stiles and Stiles panicked, he gripped the keys and pushed off the car, turning unsteadily.  At that point he didn't really have a plan but getting in the car seemed like a good idea.  The only problem was that he'd forgotten the two options for who the man was.  He'd forgotten that maybe the man wasn't human.  In fact, he wasn't.  The man's smile was even more unsettling up close.  He wasn't even a foot away now so Stiles did the first thing that came to mind.  He curled the hand the keys were still in and delivered a solid punch to the man's solar plexus.  The only reaction was a quiet cough.   
            "Stiles," he said smoothly, "it's nice to officially meet you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE LAST HALF OF THIS ISN'T EDITED I'M SORRY DON'T HAAAATE MEEEE. I REALLY WANTED TO POST AND I COULDN'T EDIT BECAUSE I HAD TO VISIT SOMEONE IN THE HOSPITAL BUT ANYWAYS THAT IS A SIDE NOTE.
> 
> YOU ALL ARE LOVELY AND I KNOW I SHOULD RESPOND TO REVIEWS BUT I'M HORRIDLY SHY AND THIS IS MY MOST POPULAR STORY AND I JUST MOSTLY END UP COWERING IN THE CORNER.
> 
> YES I AM THAT MUCH OF A LOSER.
> 
> Also you guys need to know that I'm going to try and get an update schedule set up. Trying key word trying to update every Thursday starting next Thursday. We'll see how that goes.
> 
> If you are really wanting to talk to me come to tumblr I'm not sure why I'm more comfortable there I just am. Sorry. 
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH.


	16. I'm too Numb to Feel Right Now

_Could have been a wolf that wanted you for himself._ Derek's words were ringing in his head and Stiles' knees were weak.  "Could we go for a coffee?" the man continued.  He stepped closer when Stiles didn't answer and panicking, he flailed backwards.    
            " _No_.  Nope.  Absolutely not."  The smile didn't falter.  Instead the man tilted his head to the side slightly.  As if he'd never considered a negative answer.    
            "But we have so much to discuss," he protested silkily.    
            "I'm t-taken."  Stiles shoved Derek's keys into his pocket so he didn't do something really stupid like drop them.  He'd never make it into the car anyways.      
            "I'm aware you are temporarily claimed Stiles."  Stiles scowled.  _Temporarily_.  As if he needed the reminder.    
            "Then what do you want?" he snapped, tempted to cross his arms over his chest.  There actually wasn't a reason not to because it wasn't like the werewolf in front of him couldn't hear his racing heart.  He could probably smell fear too.  He looked like he could smell fear at least.    
            "I already told you Stiles.  Coffee.  With you.  It'll be my treat."    
            "I don't want coffee," Stiles muttered petulantly.  He blanched when he was grasped firmly by the elbow.  "I have to get back to my mate.  R-Right now."    
            "Stiles please don't lie to me."  Damn his heart.    
            "You're scaring me," Stiles admitted.    
            "If you don't make me angry you have nothing to worry about."    
            "If I don't make you angry," Stiles echoed weakly.    
            "Exactly, now come for coffee.  There's a lovely shop just around the corner and we will be back in plenty of time."    
            "Okay," Stiles agreed slowly.  "Do you need to hold on to me though?"    
            "I'd prefer it."  Stiles resisted the urge to squeak as the man started walking, pulling him along. 

Entering the coffee shop didn't make Stiles feel any better.  Just because they were in public didn't mean he was safe.  Shouldn't it have been obvious he was a hostage anyways?  But at least the man had been honest; the coffee shop was very close.  Stiles had made the decision not to out and out panic until the man tried to take him further from Derek.  For now it was okay.  It wasn't great but it was okay.  He could breathe.  His arm wasn't released until they chose a corner table, the man effortlessly balancing both saucers in one hand.  Stiles pulled his feet up to the edge of the chair, wrapping his arms around his knees.  After another moment he propped his chin between them, not caring how odd it looked.    
            "Now what do you want?"    
            "You aren't going to try your coffee?  I think it's the best on this coast."  He sounded offended but Stiles didn't move.  
            "I'm here, we're having coffee.  Talk."  Stiles left out the fact that he'd all but been kidnapped.    
            "I want you to leave with me," he said bluntly.  Stiles felt his eyes widen.    
            "No way."  There was no response and several awkward moments of silence passed.  "You're creepy I don't even know you and he'd come after me anyways."    
            "And if I told you it would save his life?" 

Stiles' heart thumped painfully.    
            "What did you just say?"  The man lifted his mug and took a long sip of coffee rather than responding.  "Did you just threaten my mate?"  He was so angry, so suddenly, that it shocked him.    
            "People are staring Stiles."  But he didn't care.  He was all but seeing red.  Had he ever been this angry before?    
            "No," he shook his head emphatically.  "You're psycho."    
            "What I am is older and stronger.  My blood line is pure.  My pack is not one to be trifled with."    
            "You're threatening my pack?" Stiles exclaimed, only noticing the slip once it was out.  " _His_ pack," he corrected firmly, "his pack."    
            "I'll do whatever I need to.  Are you smart enough to do the same?"    
            "This isn't happening," Stiles protested, mostly to himself.  "Just supposed to go along with you?  And what happens if he follows after me?"    
            "You'll convince him you want me instead.  Or I'll kill him."  
            "What if I don't believe you?"  The man shrugged and took another sip of coffee.    
            "I suppose we'll find out.  If that's a risk you're willing to take."  His body was starting to tremble.    
            "Why are you doing this?"  Another smile and Stiles couldn't stop himself from shuddering.    
            "I won't explain myself to you.  If you won't play nice then make a decision.  Come with me or risk your mate's life."   
            "Please," Stiles tried, panic shooting through him.    
            "Yes or no."  He took another sip of coffee, calm as could be.  Stiles wanted to scream.    
            "I'll do what you want.  Don't hurt him."

As if he really had a choice in the first place.  The man smiled again but it was different this time.  Broader.  Stiles hesitated to use the word grin but…it could apply.    
            "Oh very good," he let out, "naïve to be sure but still I appreciate this course of action."  Stiles frowned.  "Please Stiles," he gestured to Stiles' untouched cup, "do try the coffee it's divine."  Stiles dropped his legs slowly, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with it.  He tried to remind himself that this made him no less vulnerable than he was before.  It didn't work very well.  His hand trembled slightly as he lifted the cup.  Even though he took a small sip it burned all the way down and he felt ill.  It was good coffee but that didn't make him feel any better.  Where was Derek's weird wolfy sense now?  He was actually in danger here!  Or…well maybe _he_ wasn't in danger so much but still this was not a great situation to be in.  "There that wasn't so hard?  We'll get along very well Stiles I assure you."    
            "Or maybe I'll kill you in your sleep," Stiles suggested.    
            "That will be entirely unnecessary, I assure you."  He laughed then, eyes bright with it.  "Though your pout is adorable."  Stiles wiped the expression from his face immediately.  The man laughed again.  "I understand now," he allowed.  "It had to be you."    
            "You're confusing as fuck."  The man looked over his head so Stiles took another sip of coffee.  It went down just a bit easier.    
            "Derek.  Nice of you to join us."  Stiles' head snapped around before he could stop it.  His heart reacted painfully and it was almost ridiculous how much better he felt in that moment.    
            "Uncle Peter."    
            "Uncle Peter?" Stiles demanded, shifting back and closer to Derek.  " _Gross_ ," he exhaled before his brain caught up with his mouth. 

No one spoke for a stilted moment.  
            "Allow me to apologize Stiles I simply had to be sure that I was leaving my nephew in good hands.  But in the future if someone approaches you as I have the appropriate reaction is to get to Derek…or wait for him to come for you."    
            "I don't want to know," Derek said stiffly, "we're leaving."  He hauled Stiles up by the shoulder of his shirt without another word.  Stiles stumbled out of his chair more than willingly, not even shooting a backward glance at Peter.  They were pushing out the door when he spoke again, having followed after them.  
            "Come now Derek what am I supposed to tell your mother when she asks?  That I didn't even meet the boy?"    
            "I don't care what you tell her," but there was a catch in his voice.  Stiles' lips curved down.  He caught Derek's arm and clung.  
            "Derek wait.  Talk to him."  Derek kept dragging him along instead.  
            "No I'm getting you out of here."  Stiles dug both heels in, letting his body go to the sidewalk when Derek didn't stop.  "Stiles!"    
            "Talk to him," Stiles repeated.  "I am _fine_.  He didn't hurt me.  He's just…weird."  Derek yanked him back up, Stiles fearing his shirt was going to rip for the first time.    
            "I don't want to talk to him," Derek protested softly.  They both looked back to where Peter stood, maybe four feet away.  His expression was mostly blank and Stiles thought he was trying to look meek.  Innocent was probably impossible.    
            "I promise I'll leave you alone," he offered, "just give me something to go back with.  Everyone misses you Derek."    
            "Don't lie to me."    
            "You can hear my heart."  
            "You know how to fake it."    
            "I'm not lying," he offered.  Derek looked like he wanted to bolt.  Stiles thought if he wasn't still standing between them he already would have. 

            "Let's go talk to him," Stiles offered eventually.  "We'll do it together."    
            "Stiles…"  
            "I'm here."  The _for now_ went unspoken.  "Come on," he gripped Derek's arm with his free hand and gave a tug, knowing they weren't going anywhere unless Derek allowed it.  He did.  Stiles let his hands drop away, surprised when Derek released his shoulder, catching one of his hands instead.  "You're not wearing any shoes," Stiles noticed quietly.    
            "No," Derek agreed tonelessly.    
            "How did you know?"    
            "I knew you weren't in the building…I was worried when you didn't come back…your scent," he explained haltingly.  Stiles let it go at that, wary of another argument.    
            "Thank you," he offered instead.  Derek stared at him as if he was insane but didn't say anything.  Peter was holding the door of the coffee shop open for them and Stiles didn't let Derek go, even when they returned to the table.  He ended up in the chair between them, Derek's hand sandwiched between his in his lap.  "So," Stiles murmured, unsure how to get the ball rolling.    
            "I wasn't thrilled at first Derek, hearing you'd chosen a mate.  But seeing you together," he smiled softly, "I'm very happy for you."    
            "It's not permanent," Derek told him.    
            "No," his uncle agreed, lifting his coffee, "not yet," he let out before taking a sip.    
            "Not ever."  At this Peter's eyebrow rose.  
            "Why ever not?"    
            "He has a family to return to."    
            "That hasn't stopped you," Peter said stiffly.  Derek's hand tightened on Stiles' painfully.  He couldn't help a quiet hum of protest.    
            "He didn't kill anyone."    
            "Neither did you," Stiles cut in.  Peter's lips were slightly open, as if he'd been about to say the same thing.    
            "We're not discussing _that_." 

Peter didn't argue and Stiles followed his lead.  He was grateful when Derek's hand loosened.    
            "Fine but the fact remains you should keep him.  The boy's clearly in love with you."  Stiles, who'd already been mentally arguing against the phrasing _keep him_ , felt his jaw drop open.  _Well thanks a lot you psychotic douche bag it's not like I didn't_ just _figure that out or anything why don't you just go blabbing it to the whole god damned world?_ Had it even been five minutes since his revelation?  _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.  This wasn't okay.  No one was saying anything and the racing of Stiles' heart was becoming painful.  "Had you not exchanged pins yet?" Peter asked, smirking.  Stiles was too tempted to reach for his coffee and toss it on him.  He would have had the perfect opportunity as Peter leaned over conspiratorially.  "You see back in the 50s-"  
            "Yes I got the reference," Stiles snapped, cheeks on fire.  Peter sat back, still smirking.    
            "I quite like it because even then it was a double entendre."  He sighed wistfully and Stiles eyed the coffee, nearly echoing him.  "The trouble your father and I got into in our youth.  Mm.  Before your mother of course."  Derek didn't respond.  Stiles didn't blame him.  Peter was like the creepy uncle that everyone tried to avoid at Christmas parties.  "That's neither here nor there."  Peter spun his coffee cup slowly.  He looked to Derek.  "You really intend to let him go?"  Derek nodded once, pointedly not looking at Stiles.  Peter tsked.  "You think you'll find someone else?"    
            "No."    
            "God's sakes Derek."  There was a pause and Stiles barely resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably.  "What about him?  You think he'll be able to settle with a human after this?"    
            "He's young," Derek dismissed, "he'll find the right person."  _No_.  Stiles couldn't rectify the pain in his chest for a moment.  He didn't want someone else.  Derek was the right person.  It hurt enough to steal his breath. 

His chin ducked down and he focused on breathing.  _In and out.  You've always known how._ But another silence was pressing down on the table and Stiles wanted nothing more than to break it.  He wanted something to distract him.  Something to take this pain away.  But there were never simple answers.  Especially now.    
            "You don't care that it hurts him?"    
            "What do you want Peter?" Derek gritted, hand tight on Stiles' again.    
            "So you're going to be alone again?  Once he leaves?"    
            "I have a pack."  It was feeble at best.    
            "I _repeat_ you're going to be alone again?"  Derek glared at him.  Peter pinched the bridge of his nose for several seconds.  "I don't understand," he exhaled softly, "why you don't just come home then?  Leaving you with a mate is one thing but Derek why do you insist on staying alone?  We _miss_ you.  We are not complete without you.  You know that."    
            "I can't," he shook his head.    
            "You won't," Peter disagreed quietly.  Stiles agreed with Peter, scarily so, but felt now was not the time to press matters.  He stayed silent.  "Annabelle has never met you," Peter continued softly.    
            "Who is Annabelle?  A girlfriend?"  Peter smiled sadly.  
            "Annabelle is my daughter Derek.  You haven't met her mother either."  Derek shook his head again and Stiles could only guess what that was in reaction to.  "Amelia and Will asked after you every night for nearly five years."    
            "So you're just going to guilt trip me and manipulate me until you get what you want?"    
            "If I have to.  Yes." 

Derek scoffed, pulling his hand from Stiles' grasp.    
            "Unbelievable," he spat.    
            "Your grandfather passed away."    
            "And I suppose his last request was to see me?"  Peter snapped his teeth together and Stiles flinched.  It was so alien seeing a human do it.    
            " _Derek_."  Derek's head snapped to the side and at first Stiles thought he was looking out the window.  It took another moment for him to realize it was a show of submission.  "He was killed," Peter added.  "He didn't have a last request."  There was a tense pause.  
            "I'm sorry," Derek murmured.    
            "I never should have let you walk out the door knowing you thought it was your fault.  You were a child."    
            "None of you wanted me to stay."  The words were hard and Derek's eyes were guarded.  "Not even the children."  He did look out the window then and Stiles wanted to take his hand again.  He wanted to save him from this.    
            "We thought you had to leave to heal.  We never thought you weren't coming back."    
            "Why are you doing this?" Derek questioned softly.  "Why are you saying these things?"    
            "Because it's time for you to come home.  If there's nothing keeping you here it's time to come home Derek."  The words were met with more silence.  
            "Why you?" Derek questioned next.  "Why not Dad?  Or Mom?"    
            "Because you have to forgive me Derek.  Forgive me and come home."    
            "Forgive _you_?"  Derek's lips moved soundlessly for a few moments.  "For _what_?" he demanded finally.    
            "For holding you back.  For keeping you from going to her.  For not saving her."  It was only then that Stiles wondered how long they'd been waiting to have this conversation.  Had they just never talked about what happened?  How was that possible? 

Maybe all the Hales were not so great with the talking.    
            "It wasn't your fault," Derek denied.  Another awkward silence reigned.    
            "Um do you guys want to talk in private because…this seems like…family…uh….matters."    
            "Well you are family," Peter told him, "for now."  Stiles frowned at him.  "Plus Derek would already be gone if you weren't sitting here."  Derek didn’t deny it.    
            "Okay.  It's a bit late to bow out anyways."    
            "A bit," Peter agreed with a hint of a smirk.  He spun his cup again, reaching out and taking Stiles' after another moment.  "Will you at least consider returning with me?"    
            "I can't," Derek repeated, not looking at either of them.    
            "Think about it," Peter murmured, "promise."  Stiles suddenly had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach that this conversation was rapidly drawing to a close.  Maybe Peter knew the signs better than he did.    
            "Yeah alright," Derek agreed very quietly.  "You ready?"  Stiles nodded, half surprised when Peter didn't protest.  Derek shoved his chair back and stood, Stiles hurrying to follow. 

He didn't point out that they weren't headed towards the car.  He didn't speak at all until Derek stopped suddenly, sagging against an alley wall.  His hands went into his hair and his body curled in on itself.    
            "Hey," Stiles protested softly, "I'm here, I'm right here," he pushed close, fingers gripping at Derek's triceps and trying to get his face in Derek's line of vision.  "I'm here it's okay."  He tried again to fit his body to Derek's, nearly sighing when he couldn't get close enough.  Derek's arms wrapped around him suddenly, hauling his body forward and crushing the air from his lungs.  Stiles' knuckles scraped against brick and he deliberately ignored it.  Derek shoved his face into the juncture of Stiles' neck and shoulder and Stiles shifted his neck to make more room.  "It's okay, it's okay," he whispered, knowing he was all but lying.  Still he had to say something.  He had to do something.  One hand shifted to the back of Derek's neck, fingertips easing into his hair slowly.  "It's okay," he murmured again, stroking through Derek's hair.    
            "Stiles," Derek breathed raggedly, "I miss them."    
            "I know."  And he did.  How could you not miss your family?  "How long," he breathed, holding him tighter, "how long has it been?"    
            "About eight years," Derek admitted.  "My baby brother is your age by now."  Stiles didn't say anything.  His fingers were cramping shoved against the brick but Stiles didn’t move.  He still didn't say anything.  What was he supposed to say?  Derek had been in self inflicted exile for almost a decade.  There was no way he could make that better.  He moved his fingers through Derek's hair again, settling at the nape of his neck briefly and squeezing.  Maybe he could say _I'm here, I'm listening_ without actually saying anything at all. 

His hand was asleep by the time he was released.  It was another moment before Stiles stepped back.    
            "H-uh…you wanna go back to your place?" Stiles stumbled over the words, very nearly saying _home_.  He had to get his head on straight.  Derek's house wasn't his home.  It wasn't either of their homes really.  Nor was Derek's current pack either of their packs.  Stiles didn't have a pack.  He was human.  Still these were thoughts for a different time.    
            "You're bleeding," Derek said softly.  Stiles scoffed lightly, flexing his tingling knuckles.  
            "I'm fine."  Derek brought his hand up for inspection, frowning.    
            "Let's get you patched up.  I need to clean out my locker anyways."  Stiles didn't protest.  He had the feeling his mouth would only get him into trouble right now.  What Derek needed was his proximity.  Not his proclivity for saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time.  He did that a lot though.  They were greeted with another wide eyed stare from the woman behind the desk.   
            "Derek…um…" she leaned forward, "Mona is looking for you and she is _pissed_ ," she dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.    
            "It's alright Danni."    
            "No but-"  
            "It's okay."  Derek pulled Stiles again, turning for the locker room.    
            "Was that Hale?" someone screeched down the hallway.  " _Hale!_ You get back here this instant!"  Stiles slid a cautious glance over his shoulder, half cowering into Derek as he saw a woman with nearly more hair then head rushing after them.  "I need you in my office _right now!_ "    
            "Don't bother," Derek didn't even look back, still tugging Stiles along.  "I quit."    
            "Q- You can't quit!"    
            "I just did."  Mona apparently didn't have a comeback because the door swung shut behind them in silence. 

"Come here," Derek breathed, moving for the sinks.  Derek still had hold of his good hand and Stiles gave a squeeze.  
            "I'm okay," he repeated gently.    
            "Humor me," Derek returned.  Stiles was finally released as they reached the row of sinks.  Derek ran cold water, rinsing Stiles' hand slowly.    
            "Are _you_ okay?" Stiles asked when Derek shut the water back off.  There was a moment's pause before Derek shook his head simply.  "Let's get out of here."    
            "Yeah," Derek said slowly.  Stiles laced their fingers together because Derek was already halfway there and proximity was supposed to help right?  Right.  So proximity.  They moved to Derek's locker and yanked out clothes, Derek shoving his feet back into his sneakers and draping his jacket over his free arm.  Between the two of them they got everything and left with two bundles of clothes.  Stiles was surprised when Derek stopped at the desk.  He managed a small smile that Stiles had a feeling was purely for Danni's benefit.  "Tell everybody I'm sorry and I said bye yeah?"  She stared back with wide eyes.  
            "Are you really leaving?"    
            "Yeah.  I'm really leaving."  Stiles stomach curled uncomfortably.  The statement felt so final.  It felt like it could mean more than just Derek's job.  He berated himself as soon as they hit the street.  How could he be so selfish?  If Derek did in fact decide to go home with Peter, back to his family, that would be the best thing for him.  Derek _should_ go home to his family.  He should be happy and loved and he should smile all the fucking time.  The fact that Stiles could even be uncomfortable with the idea of it felt unbearably selfish.

At the car he offered Derek the keys, eyebrows rising when he shook his head.  "Would you mind?" he questioned, stopping at the trunk.  Stiles fumbled to unlock it, jaw actually dropping open when Derek dumped his stuff in the trunk and walked around to the passenger side door.  He got in without looking back and Stiles put the clothes in his arms in the trunk too before shutting it gently.  He was driving?  How was he supposed to drive Derek's car?  What if he hit a tree?  He forced his feet to stop and took a deep breath before swallowing.  He wasn't going to hit a tree.  He was a good driver.  Not to mention Derek was probably too upset to drive.  So this only made sense.  It wasn't until he was sitting in the adjusted seat, carefully buckled in; key hovering in the ignition that he realized he didn't know _where_ to drive.    
            "Uh," he offered brilliantly.    
            "Just head north for now," Derek returned.    
            "Cool," Stiles breathed.  He tried to be subtle as he glanced to Derek but Derek was already staring back at him.    
            "I'll be fine."  Stiles didn't believe him, not even remotely, but he let this pass too.  He had the feeling that Derek needed to lie to himself right now.  The quiet lies we all tell ourselves.  _It doesn't hurt.  I'll be okay.  Everything will be okay_.  He still felt helpless and thought again that his silence was all he could offer.  When Derek took his right hand Stiles glanced to him again, smiling barely.  He pushed thoughts of driving into trees firmly out of his mind and drove with one hand.

"What did he say to you?" Derek questioned eventually, "How did he get you to go with him?"  Stiles hesitated, sighing when Derek's thumb rubbed over a knuckle.    
            "He didn't really give me a choice actually."    
            "When he said 'if someone approaches you as I have' what did he mean?"    
            "Oh," Stiles exhaled.  He hesitated again.  "He said he wanted me.  That if I didn't go with him or convince you I wanted to he'd kill you."  The silence was suddenly heavy.    
            "Pull over," Derek breathed.  Teeth digging into his lip, Stiles flicked the turn signal and did as asked.    
            "I'm sorry," he said in a rush, "but he was scary and I _believed_ him I know I shouldn't have jus-" he was cut off as Derek released his seat belt and yanked him into his lap.    
            "Shut up," Derek sounded just a bit amused and Stiles obeyed instantly.  "Don't ever do it again," he added.    
            "Well I don't think your uncle is ever going to proposition me again so I think we're good."  Derek shook his head and pressed a kiss to Stiles' collar bone.    
            "You're insane."  
            "I know."  Stiles relaxed into him and it was nice.  It felt so good, so _right_ , to be this close.  
            "It's not your job to protect me," Derek breathed finally.  Stiles pushed himself up just enough to look down at him, ignoring the way the top of his head was brushing the roof of the car.    
            "Yeah it is." 

Derek stared at him for the longest time, a sliver of teeth barely visible through his parted lips.  Stiles wondered what he'd been about to say when he changed his mind.  Probably some type of argument.  But then he'd stopped.  And now he was still staring at him.  Stiles' cheeks began to heat uncomfortably and he glanced to where his knees framed Derek's thighs.  "Well it is," he huffed.  Derek's lips finally closed, shoulders slumping slightly.  He pulled Stiles close again, cheek pressing to his chest.  He didn't say anything, simply exhaling deeply.  Stiles let his head drop down so his jaw was resting on the top of Derek's head.  He sighed, hands smoothing down Derek's shoulders and coming to a rest at the insides of his elbows.  "You know what," he let out eventually.  
            "Hm," Derek hummed, not moving.  
            "We should do something stupid."    
            "Something stupid," Derek echoed.  Stiles smiled.  
            "Yeah something stupid.  We should go see a dumb movie and throw popcorn at each other.  Share a slurpee and then buy booze."  Derek hummed again.  
            "Stiles I'm not buying you booze.  You're underage."  Stiles flicked his ear.  " _Ouch_ ," Derek protested, pulling up and forcing him to do the same.  "What was that for?"  Stiles tried to arch an eyebrow, unsure if one or both went up.  After a few beats of silence Derek seemed to get it.  "Yeah I guess you've got a point," he muttered.    
            "I do have a point; I have a very good point."  He ruffled Derek's hair before dropping a kiss to the tousle, unsure what exactly had sent him into mother hen mode.  "So we're going to do something stupid.  And then if it makes you feel any better I won't even drink," he paused, climbing off Derek and more falling back into the driver's seat than settling in, "in front of you," he added with a smile.  Derek flicked his thigh before sending a smile his way and Stiles couldn't help a grin.  Yeah this was a good idea. 

Derek wasn't as impressed by _The Avengers_ as Stiles had hoped.  It wasn't exactly the stupid movie Stiles had promised but with all the…well…kidnapping he'd completely forgotten about it.  Nothing else looked even remotely as good.     
            "It was too long," Derek complained again as they walked towards the store.  
            "If you had let me explain it to you," Stiles sighed.    
            "You were muttering so fast you couldn't even hear the dialogue yourself," Derek pointed out.    
            "I was doing just fine."    
            "Whatever you say," Derek agreed, tugging open the door.    
            "Well there's no way this part of the plan is going to fail," Stiles told him.  Derek arched a brow, lips curling barely.    
            "You're going to talk me out of this before we even get to the right aisle."    
            "How can you say no to this face?" Stiles questioned, pouting quickly, "Plus I'm working extra hard to cheer you up so if you don’t start showing some appreciation I'm not even going to drunkenly make out with you later."    
            "Drunkenly making out doesn't sound like a great idea," Derek pointed out.  
            "Are you kidding?  It's going to be _awesome_."    
            "That's what you said about the movie."  Stiles scowled briefly.    
            "Well it was at least fun to look at," he pointed out.  "Pretty colors.  Explosions.  Scarlett Johansson."    
            "I'm going to ignore the fact that you just tried to use a woman as eye candy to entice me."    
            "Chris Evans?  Jeremy Renner?  RDJ?"  Derek rolled his eyes before stopping at the mouth of the aisle.    
            "You can pick two things."    
            "Jack Daniels, vodka."  Derek had both bottles cradled in his arm surprisingly fast.  
            "You're not getting drunk."  
            "Only if you do."  Derek drunk, now there was an idea.    
            "I'm buying the alcohol; you have no pull in this argument."  He set the bottles down on the conveyor belt.  "I still say this is a bad idea."  
            "Trust me this is a fantastic idea." 

Derek didn't get asked for ID and Stiles honestly wondered if the cashier was too intimidated to ask.  It was possible.  He couldn't seem to wipe the smile off his face.  Really he should considering why he launched this massive distraction plan in the first place but right now if they just…ignored it.  If Stiles just glanced out the side of his eye and looked at Derek as they walked together.  If the thought of the way their bodies pressed when they fit into each other.  The fact that Derek just bought him alcohol even though he didn't seem particularly thrilled by it.  The idea that Derek did a lot of things just because Stiles wanted him to.  It was a heady feeling.  He couldn't help but think back to him convincing Derek to talk to Peter.  Would Derek have done that on his own?  For anyone else?  He didn't think so and had to repress a shiver.  The feelings were too much for just a split second for too long and words were tumbling out of his mouth suddenly.  "I really like you…" his cheeks were on fire, "you know?"  He wasn't sure making it a question was a great idea but it had to be better than some parking lot declaration, right?  Derek pulled him closer for a moment and kissed his eyebrow, Stiles squirming away as he laughed.  "Your aim sucks," he teased, firmly shoving every thought from his brain.  The last one to go was _at least it was like and not love_.    
            "It was closest," Derek replied.    
            "Nice to know I'm worth a little effort."  Derek just looked at him like he was being stupid, which Stiles ignored.  He rounded the car and tossed the keys over the roof, Derek catching them effortlessly. 

"How do you not have shot glasses," Stiles sighed, gazing into the half empty cabinet, "why did I expect you to have shot glasses?"  Derek ignored him, opening the vodka and taking a small sip.  He winced before swiping at his mouth.  
            "You know this tastes about three times worse for me than you right?"  
            "The more you drink the better it tastes," Stiles offered, handing him a cup.    
            "That I already knew thanks."    
            "Oh?"  Stiles poured himself some vodka, filling maybe a fourth of the cup.  
            "I worked in a bar for a while."    
            "Were you legal?"  Derek shrugged, pouring vodka into his cup.  
            "They didn't care."    
            "And you're on my case."  Stiles snorted quickly before taking a sip.  The heat was almost soothing as it tore down his throat.  "Sounds like a charming establishment in any case."  Derek shrugged again.  
            "It was fine." 

He wasn't telling the truth and Stiles could tell without even looking at his face.  He tugged Derek closer with a fistful of his shirt.  His mouth tasted like vodka.  Stiles' mouth tasted like vodka too.  For half a second Stiles felt like they were both drowning in the taste of it.  The burn of it.    
            "Drinking can be good," he mumbled, barely drawing away enough to breathe.  Derek drained his cup in one long gulp, Stiles' wide eyes tracing the movement of his throat as it worked.    
            "That's horrible," Derek was smiling though, letting his cup clatter to the floor.  He took Stiles' cup, draining it too.  "Still horrible."    
            "That was m-mm," Stiles let himself be lifted onto the counter, pushing the unopened bottle of Jack aside with his hand.  Derek's mouth was soaked in vodka now and Stiles thought he liked this _much_ better than just drinking it.  The alcohol was thinner and hotter and it was making Stiles' head spin.  Derek's hands fell tight on his hips, drawing him closer as Derek bit his lip.    
            "Need you," he breathed out, the words harsh past Stiles' open lips.    
            "Right here," Stiles answered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost almost beat my deadline by a week.  
> How sweet is that?!  
> Also it looks like weekly updates will be a thing.   
> I apologize for my bi-polar Peter. Really.   
> It's just weird…writing him with Derek. Because their relationship is so strained. Which you know..duh.   
> Anyways. I am rambling yet again.  
> Sorry.   
> I'm about to go to bed though why I get chattier the more tired I am makes absolutely no sense.  
> I am shutting up.  
> Thank you all so so so much! You're amazing!   
> Everyone who visited me on tumblr too. Heart cookies for you.   
> Oh! I forgot, my friend in the hospital made it through the 72 hour waiting period and should be out of ICU soon!  
> More hearts for everyone :3


	17. This is Where I Start to Miss You

The bottle of vodka was empty and Derek was a horny drunk.  Not that Stiles minded because he couldn't seem to stop laughing unless Derek was kissing him.  Somewhere between sharing the bottle of whiskey, Derek drinking from Stiles' lips, they'd made it up the stairs and tumbled into bed.  Stiles was on board with all of it.  Derek ripping his clothes off, mumbling incoherently, biting hard enough to draw blood, even the initial pain when he didn't prep enough.  Being drunk sort of killed his patience.  By sort of he meant eviscerated.  Being buzzed possibly drunk was okay.  The sex was amazing.  Until he was stuck straddling Derek, sticky and sore.  He wasn't getting it, buzzed as he was, and tried to climb off again.  Only problem was Derek was solidly knotted inside him.    
            "Derek," he mumbled, "Derek need to de-wolf."  Derek hummed softly, eyes closed.  "Derek," Stiles tried again, louder.    
            "Smell so good like this," Derek was saying, "smell you so well.  Love how you smell.  Favorite smell…ever.  Wish everything smelled like you all the time."  Stiles was laughing again, giggling when he realized he really shouldn't be laughing.    
            "You need to wolf down," Stiles gasped, eyes burning with tears, "human up or something.  I'm stuck you dork."  He shifted, groaning at the resulting twinge of pain.  Leaning forward as carefully as possible Stiles pulled Derek's face towards him.  "Derek," he repeated loudly, "I'm stuck!"  Derek's eyes slit open just barely, glowing.  
            "Good," he exhaled. 

The next second he was pulling Stiles closer and rolling so they shared the mattress equally.    
            "Derek," Stiles groaned in protest, eyes closing in sudden exhaustion anyways.  "I'm sticky.  I'm sticky and stuck," he giggled again unwillingly.  "This is your fault."    
            "Shup I'm drunk," Derek told him, fingers falling against his lips and pressing them closed.  Stiles bit at his claws before trying to settle into the pillow.  Derek smiled and snapped his teeth in response.  Another laugh bubbled at Stiles' lips but he refused to let it out, swallowing instead.  "Should be stuck to me more often," Derek said, shifting closer to Stiles' throat.    
            "Inconvien…it's incon…hm.  It's bad.  Sort of."    
            "Don't care," Derek sighed.    
            "You don't care about anything you're drunk," Stiles said after several moments.  Derek hummed softly.    
            "Yeah," he added just as Stiles was drifting away, "this was a good idea."

The first thing out of Stiles' mouth in the morning was a groan.  Derek was blurry when he opened his eyes and he had to blink several times.    
            "Please tell me you're hungover."    
            "You are?" Derek returned, eyebrows drawing together.  Stiles closed his eyes again, gritting his teeth.    
            "Stupid wolf.  Go get me medicine."  There was a beat of silence.    
            "Uh…I would love to Stiles but-"  
            "But?" Stiles groaned, glaring accusingly.    
            "I'm still," he looked down pointedly, lips twisting, "stuck."  It took another moment for Stiles to be aware enough to panic.            
            " _What_!"  He took in Derek again with wide eyes.  "You can't be you're human," he protested.  Derek rolled his eyes, still amused.  
            "Not knotted.  Just stuck."  Stiles was barely relieved.  
            "Well unstuck yourself."    
            "It's not going to feel good," Derek said hesitantly.  Stiles groaned again.    
            "No more pain stay there."    
            "Uh."  Oh he wasn't going to like this.  "I have to pee."  Stiles leveled another glare.    
            "You're the one who wouldn't get unstuck last night," he seethed, "this is _your_ fault!"    
            "Maybe it would help if I just…" he drifted, averting his eyes.  Stiles blanched as he caught on.  
            "Oh my _god_ don't you dare I will run you over with your own car I swear to god Derek." 

There were several seconds of silence.             
            "But logically…I mean-"  
            "You are not peeing in me Derek!"  Stiles yelped the words, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth.  Werewolf settlement.  _Fucking hell_.  He took several moments to collect himself.  "What I mean," he continued lowly, "is carry me to the shower."    
            "Oh.  That could work too."    
            "And yet your first instinct is to pee in me," Stiles hissed, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck and wincing.    
            "It was just an idea," Derek offered as he shifted closer to the edge of the bed.  Stiles hissed in pain and bit his bottom lip.  "You humans and your silly aversion to a little urine."    
            "Urine is gross Derek."    
            "It actually can be very useful."    
            "For perverts and serial killers?"  Stiles yelped again as Derek stood, wrapping his legs around him quickly.    
            "Wouldn't you like to know all the things wolves do with it?"  Stiles wrinkled his nose, clinging tighter while simultaneously trying to relax.  
            "Actually no I wouldn't."  Derek chuckled.  
            "You should lighten up."    
            "I already know humans used to use it to brush teeth and wash clothes.  I never need to know more.  Ever."    
            "And why do you know that?" Derek chuckled.  Stiles rested his cheek on Derek's shoulder, sighing.    
            "History class."  
            "Of course," Derek responded, one arm wrapping around Stiles to help keep him in place as he pushed the bathroom door open. 

Fifteen minutes later Stiles was curled on the floor of the shower, half wishing for a bathtub and dangerously close to falling asleep again.  Derek returned, spinning the knob and turning the water off before scooping Stiles up like a child.  Stiles' head lolled against Derek's shoulder and he felt taken care of again.  The pain seemed to recede a bit.  "Breakfast," Derek breathed, laying him back in bed, "or massage?"    
            "Oh god," Stiles groaned, "massage please."  Derek hummed softly, pressing a kiss to Stiles' naked shoulder before running his fingers down Stiles' arms.  Stiles sighed and smiled.  Words were pulling at his lips and he pressed them closed forcefully.  It would be so bad to say it now.  So bad.  Because it was only temporary.  It didn't really matter Stiles thought.    
            "How's your head?" Derek questioned.    
            "Mm, hurts," Stiles admitted, grabbing for him when he slipped from bed.  "Hey," he protested, "that was not a massage."    
            "Getting you medicine you baby."  Stiles nearly giggled to himself.  Derek calling him _baby_ was decidedly weird.    
            "'M only human," he muttered, curling his arm around a pillow.  Derek didn't answer.  Stiles pulled the pillow over his face as Derek went down the stairs, groaning into the fabric.  Maybe he was in too much of a rush to worry about being quiet.  Stiles didn't know if that made it better or worse.  Derek was surprisingly gentle pulling him up and feeding him the pills before helping him drink an entire glass of water.  Maybe Stiles shouldn't be surprised by Derek being gentle at this point but his touches were feather light.  Even his expression was soft and patient.  Stiles didn't have a name for this expression either.  He frowned at Derek as he tried to think of one.    
            "We're not doing this again," Derek told him softly, lowering him back down slowly.  If it would have been worth it Stiles would have opened his eyes and rolled them.    
            "It was awesome," he said instead.    
            "You thought it was worth it?  Really?" Derek murmured, hands starting a slide down Stiles' torso.  Stiles sighed again.  
            "Yep.  Totally."    
            "You're-"  
            "Ridiculous I know."  Derek kissed his shoulder again and it felt like an apology. 

Stiles slept for two more hours and Derek let him, eventually bringing toast and jam upstairs.  When jam smeared on the sheet Derek only rolled his eyes.  "Sorry," Stiles allowed, smiling sheepishly.    
            "They're only sheets."  Stiles couldn't do anything but agree.    
            "We haven't gone for a walk lately," Derek said as Stiles took another huge bite of toast.  "Not that you'd be up to it today," he paused to swipe his thumb along the corner of Stiles' mouth, "but we should.  Soon."  He sucked the pad of his thumb into his mouth before letting his hand drop to the sheets.    
            "Yeah okay," Stiles agreed quietly.  The request sounded a bit…off.  As if Derek was already trying to prepare for him not being here, already trying to stockade memories.  Stiles wondered after a moment if he shouldn't be doing the same.  How long before he forgot Derek's smell?  His voice?  His face?  He shifted closer unconsciously, skin buzzing with a craving that he'd never had before Derek.   Derek's eyes tracked the movement.  He didn’t say anything.  "Let's just spend the day in bed," he suggested after a moment.  One of Derek's eyebrows lifted.  
            "Aren't we already doing that?"  Stiles stuck out his tongue, a grin pulling at his lips as Derek moved the plate out of the way and slid close enough for their bodies to be aligned.  One arm wrapped around Stiles' ribs and his chin rested on top of Stiles' head.  Stiles ducked a bit and curled to fit, sighing in what was nearly contentment.    
            "Talk to me," he mumbled eventually.  "Tell me your favorite memory."    
            "My favorite memory?" Derek questioned.  Stiles nodded slightly.  Derek was quiet a long moment.  "When my baby brother was born I guess."    
            "What's his name?"    
            "Will.  He's got big eyebrows like me."  Stiles couldn't help a chuckle at the image of a baby with Derek's eyebrows, trying to take over its face.  "My parents didn't really intend to have him," Derek continued softly.  "He just sort of happened."    
            "How big is your family?"  Derek shrugged.  
            "Big.  My mom and my dad always wanted a house full of kids."    
            "Does it bother you to talk about it?" 

He guessed he really should have thought of that earlier.  How stupid of him not to realize that Derek's favorite memory would be tied to his family.  Stiles cursed himself silently.    
            "It doesn't really matter if I talk about it or not," Derek exhaled.  "It's still there."  Stiles pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.  "Your turn," Derek added, "favorite memory go."    
            "Mm, vacation with my parents.  We went all the way to Myrtle Beach."    
            "Sounds nice."    
            "It was perfect."  It was the last summer before his mom got sick, but Stiles doesn't mention that.    
            "Your shell," Derek murmured.  The two little words make Stiles' heart ache and maybe he doesn't even have to say it.    
            "Yeah," he admitted, the word rough leaving his lips.    
            "I'm sorry you lost it."  Stiles managed a hum of response, closing his eyes and pressing closer.    
            "I didn't take anything with me when I left."  Stiles breathed in and out carefully, not daring to say a word.  He was very much aware that this conversation was now an active minefield.  "Thought it would make it easier," Derek added.    
            "Did it?" he risked when he felt like the silence had pressed on too long.  Derek laughed once, hollowly.    
            "Don't know.  Don't imagine anything would have made it easier."    
            "Yeah," Stiles agreed gently.    
            "Maybe it was.  Knowing I really didn't have anything else to lose."  Stiles was suddenly picturing Derek in an empty apartment with literally nothing but the clothes on his back.  It broke his heart.    
            "I'm sorry," he breathed, wrapping his arms around Derek.

They moved to lighter topics and the afternoon passed with relative ease.  Frozen pizza for dinner.  Reading as the evening passed.  Stiles watched Derek more than he read but he couldn't seem to help it.  It felt wrong and right at the same time, just sitting together.  He felt like they should be doing something else but what that was, he wasn't sure.  He knew that spending time with Derek was what mattered.  It wasn't so much _what_ they were doing.  But he can't help the feeling that they should be…more.  Talking more.  Touching more.  Being together _more_.  He didn't know how to do that.  And it was unsettling.  This want.  This craving.  Because he knew, he _knew_ he wouldn't be around much longer.  Barely three weeks now.  Three weeks and he'd have to leave.  He'd have to leave and then chances were he'd never see Derek again.  Stiles tried not to think _what if_ thoughts.  There were always too many variables and open ended questions, always too many things he couldn't even quantify and so it was impossible.  It was impossible to arrive at an answer when the problem started with _what if_.  Questions like _what if I graduate and come back_ were completely unfathomable.  They made Stiles' chest pinch and it hurt to breathe.  He could feel a panic attack lapping at his brain and he had to stop thinking it.  Too many open ends.  Unraveling threads.  What if Derek met someone else?  What if Derek moved to another pack?  Went back to his family?  What if something horrible happened?  What if Derek died?  What if Stiles died?  What if his father never let him out of the house again?  What if, what if, _what if_.  There was no answer.  And so for the next four days he and Derek drifted through in this disconcerting state where Stiles didn't know what to do.  He wasn't sure if Derek was feeling it too or if it was all coming from him.  Derek could feel him through the bond after all.  Another open ended question he wasn't going to get an answer to.  It wasn't like he could sit Derek down and ask him if he was feeling weird about the upcoming deadline.  That wasn't exactly part of pretending.

But Stiles didn't want to think about that today.  Not any of it.  He was out of bed before Derek for once and wandered downstairs, eating a Pop Tart before grabbing bacon out of the fridge and heading back up.  He dangled a strip of bacon over Derek's face, grimacing when Derek pushed up and grabbed it with his teeth.    
            "Still so disgusting," he winced.  Derek smirked.  
            "And why are you feeding me this morning?"    
            "I was thinking we should go swimming."  Derek sat up enough to grab another strip of bacon, twisting it loosely before eating it too.    
            "It's still May."  _I'm not going to be here when it's warmer._ He didn't say it out loud, knew he didn't have to.  Maybe it ought to be scary the way they were on the same wavelength all the time now.    
            "Well it's your personal mission to keep me warm.  Do you accept?"    
            "I think I can handle that."  Stiles smiled just a bit, internally thrilled.    
            "Good.  Get dressed."    
            "You get dressed.  I'm going to shower."    
            "You're showering before getting in a lake?"    
            "Yes because the earlier we go the colder it will be."    
            "Oh right.  Maybe I'll shower too."  Derek rolled his eyes quickly.  
            "Fine go.  I'll eat my bacon."    
            "Blech," Stiles offered, grinning.  Derek bit into another strip, letting it hang from his lips.  "You can't make that look good."    
            "I'm not trying to," Derek told him, smirking around the bacon.    
            "Blech," Stiles repeated, scooting off the bed and heading for the bathroom. 

Derek joined him in the shower before he was done and they ended up exchanging lazy open mouthed kisses until the water ran cold.  Stiles was a bit surprised it didn't go further but didn't complain.  They dried off and dressed slowly, packing a change of clothes and tugging the comforter from the bed.  Derek moved around in the kitchen and Stiles grabbed a few books, just in case.    
            "You ready?" Derek asked eventually.  Stiles felt a little thrill go through him.  
            "Yeah.  Let's go."  Derek offered a small smile and they headed out to the car, pausing by the hood as two women on the lawn next door waved.  Stiles waved back bemusedly.  "They probably heard us the other morning huh?" Stiles asked, still waving.  
            "Yup."    
            "Oh my god do they think you actually peed in me?"  Derek laughed, loudly.    
            "No.  They'd be able to smell it on you."  Stiles blanched, turning to Derek.  
            "From _here_?  Jesus Christ."  Derek laughed again, shaking his head.  
            "I told you it's very useful."    
            "Very gross," Stiles disagreed again, rounding the car and sliding in.  Derek was still smiling as they reversed onto the street.  The women waved again as they drove by and Stiles managed a wave back, barely. 

"I take it back," Stiles said when they were on the road, "a party with your neighbors would be way awkward."    
            "Especially since I don't know their names."  Stiles gaped at him.  
            "You don't know your neighbors?  Derek."  He clicked his tongue.    
            "Forming attachments isn't my thing remember?"    
            "It could be.  You just walk up and say 'Hi I'm Derek and sometimes I'm awfully surly sometimes but underneath that I'm a kitten with a warm nose.'"  Derek blinked at him.  
            "A kitten?  How-why-a _kitten_?"    
            "Dog comments offend you," Stiles said, lifting one shoulder.    
            "That's still better than a _kitten_ ," Derek groused.    
            "Wait so is the dog cat thing actually true?  Do werewolves hate kittens or cats?  Are there werecats?!"  Derek rolled his eyes and twisted the radio on.  He shot a quick glare to Stiles before looking back to the road.  "It was an honest question," Stiles grumbled, grabbing one of the books and cracking it open.

Again Stiles spent more time watching Derek than actually reading the words printed on the page.  He tried to commit the sight to memory.  This just now felt like a private moment.  Just for him.  The second time Derek caught him staring he blushed and forced his attention to the book.  Still it only worked so long and he ended up watching the trees whip by.    
            "Okay," Derek murmured, slowing and parking.  "Let's go."  Stiles grabbed the blanket and a few books, Derek grabbing bags that Stiles assumed held clothes and food.  The trek through the trees was peaceful and Stiles fought to stay in the present rather than wondering again about what the future held.  He still wouldn't get any answers.  When they broke through to the lake Stiles paused just to take it in again.  He hadn't exactly been appreciative the first time around.  It really was beautiful.  The kind of thing you were only supposed to see in movies.  "You coming?" Derek questioned, amused.  Stiles huffed in exaggerated irritation.  
            "Of course I am what's the rush?"    
            "You were the one who was eager," Derek reminded him.  He let the bags in his hands drop before tipping his head back and stripping his shirt off.  Stiles licking his lips was completely coincidental.  Of course Derek turned to catch him, smirking.  "You'd better hurry if you want me keeping you warm."  Derek kicked off his shoes as Stiles let the stuff in his arms drop to the ground.  He shrugged out of his hoodie, managing to step out of his shoes as he took his shirt off.  He was impressed with himself, shooting a satisfied look to Derek, who promptly grabbed him around the waist and took off for the water.    
            "Derek!" he yelled in protest, wrapping his legs as high as possible on Derek's body.    
            "Trust me," Derek breathed.  He waded into the water, unease in Stiles' stomach growing the deeper they got.  "Breathe now," Derek said, tipping them both sideways.  Stiles barely snapped his mouth shut in time, clutching at Derek as icy water engulfed them. 

They were only submerged for a matter of seconds, Derek pulling Stiles back up as he broke the surface.  
            "Oh my _g-god_ ," Stiles exhaled.  It wasn't cold to the point of pain but it was definitely cold.  He clung to Derek even tighter, making him laugh.  "H-How is this part of keeping me warm?"    
            "Oh right," Derek murmured, sliding a warm hand up Stiles' spine.  He pressed his lips to Stiles' as his other hand settled on Stiles' thigh.  Stiles hummed at the sensation, heat curling low in his stomach.    
            "Yeah okay pretty good p-plan," he admitted, teeth only chattering slightly.  Derek's hands rubbed soothingly and Stiles shuddered.    
            "This was all your idea anyways."  Stiles narrowed his eyes.  
            "Oh you like rubbing that in my face don't you?"  
            "Yeah," Derek admitted easily, smiling again. 

 Stiles wrinkled his nose.  
            "You can be very annoying."  Derek's smile didn't falter.  
            "So can you."  Stiles huffed a breath then.  
            "Is that any way to talk to me when I'm currently working my way towards an icy death for your benefit?"  Derek snorted then, eyebrows moving up.  
            "My benefit?  I'm the one keeping you afloat and without you I could actually swim."  The hand on Stiles' spine slid down and Stiles squeaked, hugging Derek tightly.    
            "Okay okay point made!  Don't let go my muscles are frozen and I'll drown!"    
            "You think I'd let you?" Derek questioned, his voice right in Stiles' ear.  Stiles smiled to himself for a moment, another slight tremor working through him.    
            "Promising not to let me die isn't enough to keep me warm," he announced, "you'll have to do better."    
            "Has anyone ever told you you're ungrateful?" Derek murmured, swimming further from the shore slowly.    
            "Nope never," Stiles replied without actually thinking about it.    
            "Well you are," Derek offered.  "Not to mention you'd be warmer if you swam.  You'd also get a workout."    
            "Muscles still frozen.  I'd die."  Derek chuckled again in favor of arguing. 

Stiles ventured from his grasp eventually, sliding through the frosty water slowly.  Derek stayed close, eyebrows inching together as more time passed.    
            "I'm trying to figure out why this is supposed to be romantic," he admitted finally.  Stiles laughed.    
            "What gave you the idea that swimming in a lake is romantic?"  Derek flushed and Stiles was almost glad for the pale chill of his skin.  He might not have seen it otherwise.    
            "It's in movies all the time."    
            "Yeah horror movies," Stiles teased.  Derek splashed him, Stiles spluttering as he breathed in thick lake water.  "Ugh gross," he muttered, running a hand down his face.  He sent a splash back which Derek easily dodged.  "Cheater," he complained half heartedly.    
            "How so?"  Derek kicked lazily in a circle around him and Stiles was using both arms and legs just to stay above the surface.  In one place.  He scowled.    
            "Werewolf," he said pointing to Derek, "frail human."  Derek only looked amused at the reminder and Stiles tried to splash him again.  In retaliation Derek dove beneath the water, completely disappearing.  "Oh shit," Stiles breathed.  He twisted around, trying to look.  The water was too dark and murky for him to see anything.  But that meant that Derek couldn't see through it either…didn't it?  He was almost expecting it but he still screamed when a hand grabbed his ankle.  Derek tugged just barely, not enough to pull him under too.  Stiles splashed the water.  If Derek had come up for air Stiles hadn't seen him and he was already gone again.  "You're the only one who finds this funny," he called.  No answer.  Derek was still lurking somewhere below the surface.  Stiles spun again, slower.  It was more for something to do than actually trying to find Derek.  He wouldn't be seen unless he wanted to.  "Derek come on this isn't-ouch!"  Stiles jerked as his butt was pinched.  "Not funny!"  He reached around to rub at the burning skin. 

Derek finally broke through the surface and it was immediately apparent he'd only come up to laugh.  He laughed so hard the water rippled around him.  Stiles glared at him, faltering as Derek continued to laugh.  His entire face was squeezed tight with laughs still wracking his body.  It was so loud Stiles thought it might even be echoing back to them.  
            "Okay it was not _that_ funny," he tried.  Derek ignored him.  "Really Derek?"  He was ignored again.  Stiles huffed.  He rolled his eyes.  Derek was still laughing.  Nearly an even mix of irritated and humiliated, Stiles swam towards shore.  Derek caught up easily, arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him to a stop.  
            "I'm sorry," he kissed Stiles' shoulder quickly, chuckling again.  "Sorry."  He forced his lips to relax, pulling Stiles closer and slipping his arms around his back.  "Are you mad?" he questioned somewhat seriously, eyes still crinkled.    
            "Maybe."  
            "I'm sorry," Derek offered again.  Stiles sighed after a long moment.    
            "It's okay."  He still couldn't manage a real glare.  "You were just having fun."  
            "I was," Derek agreed, hissing the corner of his mouth softly.  "I'll stay above water now."    
            "Thanks," Stiles muttered.  Derek smiled as he kissed him again.

Stiles still wasn't completely sold on the lake, but curled up with Derek on the shore wasn't bad at all.  Derek wrapped the comforter around both of them, dropping kisses on the back of Stiles' neck every so often.  His hands were resting loosely on Stiles' stomach, legs bracketing his comfortably.  Stiles rested against him and thought this was really nice after all.  He shifted eventually, curling up on Derek's chest as his eyes closed.  "Sleepy," he exhaled.  
            "Mm.  Hungry?" Derek questioned, rubbing the curve of his spine.  
            "Nope," he paused a moment before smiling.  "Wouldn't mind some beach sex though.  Cross that off my bucket list."  Derek laughed quickly.  
            "We're not having sex out here."  
            "Why?  You'd hear if anyone was coming."  Derek didn't answer.  "What?  I'm not sore anymore.  Why not?"    
            "Let's not talk about this right now."  There was an edge to his voice and Stiles couldn't help tensing.    
            "Alright," he agreed quietly.  Derek started rubbing his back again and Stiles tried to forget about the near argument.  It was easy enough.  Push it away.  Ignore it.  Just like always. 

They stayed at the beach for hours but Derek didn't manage to coax Stiles back into the water.  He got in and out as if it wasn't even difficult.  Stiles supposed he was used to it.  "Where are you from?" he asked as it finally occurred to him to ask.    
            "I was born in Maine," he said eventually, "Why?"  Stiles snorted.  
            "Well that's cheating."    
            "Oh?" Derek asked plopping down next to him, dripping again, "How so?"    
            "You grew up in _Maine_ ," Stiles accused, "that's like the icicle of the United States.  How cold does it get there?"  Derek shrugged.  
            "Colder than here."  Stiles rolled his eyes.    
            "You are such a cheater.  A werewolf that freaking grew up in _Maine_.  Of course you're not cold!"  Derek just smiled and ran a hand through his hair before flicking water at Stiles.  Stiles swatted his arm.  "I grew up in California," Stiles reminded him.  "And I have sensitive skin," he sniffed.    
            "I know you bruise like crazy," Derek told him dryly.    
            "Is that why you won't touch me?" Stiles demanded.  His eyes rounded as Derek's smile fell off.  "Forget I said that I didn't mean to, it just came out!"  He clapped both hands over his mouth and winced.    
            "I'm well aware you're not as fragile as you look," Derek said, glancing away.  "We can talk about it when we get home if you want."    
            "We don't have to," he mumbled behind his cupped hands.    
            "We should.  Not now."  Derek looked back to him after several seconds, smiling again. 

Stiles felt his lips stretch as he smiled too but he didn't really feel it.  It was simply a function.  A motion his body went through.  He didn't feel like smiling at all.  Instead he felt ill.  He took several deep breaths, letting each out so slowly.  Dragging the comforter with him Stiles climbed on Derek and pushed him down, twining their legs before flopping down and sighing softly.    
            "So did you like growing up in Maine?  Was there lots of snow?"  Derek laughed, shaking him slightly.  His hands slid under the comforter and around Stiles.    
            "Yes Stiles there was lots of snow."    
            "Well I don't know anything about Maine.  What am I supposed to ask?"    
            "You don't have to ask anything?"    
            "Does it bother you?"    
            "No."    
            "Then I want to.  I take it you weren't near a city?"    
            "No," Derek answered quietly, "about twenty miles from the coast, way up north."    
            "Pretty?"    
            "Very."    
            "Sounds nice."  Derek hummed his agreement.  The conversation more or less fell off and Stiles let it, content to stay curled against Derek for as long as possible.

They didn't leave until it was so dark Stiles had to hold to Derek's hand to find his way.  Stiles didn't let himself think about why they'd both stalled so long.  Why they didn't want to.  He didn't even actually know.  He just knew it was bad.  Derek putting it off wasn't good either.  Derek putting it off for him, he could feel it, wasn't helping.  Stiles inhaled and held it in until his lungs burned and he could focus on that instead.    
            "Relax," Derek murmured, "you're acting like I'm going to pull to the side of the road and dismember you."  Stiles barely resisted the urge to pout.  "You're supposed to laugh," Derek added.  _Maybe I would…if I actually knew you_ weren't _going to dismember me._ It wasn't like it would be an intentional dismemberment.  But still.  Stiles was pretty sure that whatever was going to happen when they got home was going to fit the definition, loosely at least.    
            "I'm just- stressed," he admitted, eyes not leaving the black of the window.    
            "Why?"  Stiles snorted, leaning his chin into his hand.  
            "Give you one guess."  Derek was silent after that.  Stiles didn't know whether he was relieved or not.  The closer and closer they got to home the more tense Stiles got.  It wasn't until the car rolled to a stop that Stiles even realized he was thinking of Derek's house as _home_.  Okay that was a serious problem.    
            "You coming?" Derek questioned quietly.    
            "Yeah.  Course."  Still Stiles didn't move.  Home.  _Home_.  When exactly had Derek become home?  An actual pinpointed second would be nice because he really had no idea.  This wasn't okay.  Derek pulled Stiles' door open, leaning against it and watching him.  Stiles gulped.  When had he even gotten out of the car?    
            "Are you alright?"  Stiles didn't answer.  He couldn't.  Not when it was a firm, resounding no. 

Derek followed him in and Stiles' hands were tangling in his sleeves.  This was too much.  He was going to have a panic attack.  "Sit," Derek said, guiding him to the futon, "breathe."  Stiles nodded, sitting and working on the breathing part.  Derek brought him a glass of water before sitting down next to him.  He didn't say anything and Stiles ended up gulping the entire glass.  His hands were shaking.  "Can I talk?" Derek questioned after what felt like forever.  Stiles looked at the empty glass clutched in his hands.  He nodded once.  "If we…" he paused awkwardly and Stiles managed a quick glance.  "With the full moon coming," Derek tried again, "it's going to get rougher.  More desperate.  Because our time is limited now.  And we both know it."  Stiles nodded again.    
            "So you don't want to hurt me."    
            "Basically.  Yes.  We're just going to have to try and slow it down again."    
            "But I thought you had more control of your wolf?  With me?"  _Yes this is good distract me_ _with other issues of our relationship_.    
            "I would…if my wolf and I didn't want the same thing."  Stiles shot another quick look at him, immediately regretting it.  Derek was the one to break the connection and Stiles clutched the glass tighter.    
            "What do you want?  What does he want?"  Stiles knew he shouldn't ask.  He shouldn't but he had to because all this time he hadn't known but he'd known or maybe at least he'd somehow thought he'd known.  It was a huge tangled mess that he couldn't find his way through but maybe if Derek was there too…    
            "You already know," Derek admitted, "you already know I want to keep you."  The words rocked through Stiles and he couldn't breathe.  The glass dropped from his hands, rolling off the toe of his sneaker.  _I want to keep you too_.  The words were just there, tugging at his lips and smothering his tongue.  "But I've been thinking," Derek continued.  Stiles' heart hammered.  Thinking what?  Thinking _what_?  "Maybe it's time for me to go home." 

_We are home_.  It was the first thing he thought.  Then his brain caught up somewhat and Stiles frowned. 

_Go home.  Go home as in leave.  Leave me.  He's leaving me._   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a bit late. Sorry! 
> 
> Updates will probably be Thursday or Friday just depending how my week goes.   
> I don't have as much time on Thursday as I thought I would :(  
> But they will still be weekly!
> 
> Also I know this was really fluffy. I actually cut a bit. (It's because my favorite number is 17 and I couldn't do heartbreak this chapter okay shhhh)  
> If it's too fluffy don't worry. It will even out down the road. *ooh foreboding*
> 
> Please forgive my rambly notes. You do not have to read them at all. 
> 
> Oh also we will be going to Beacon Hills for a bit. We'll also be meeting Derek's family.   
> So there's that.  
> Don't mind my total AU of Beacon Hills or the side ships. 
> 
> I think that's it?
> 
> Thank you SO much!


	18. More Than I Can Bear

Stiles pushed closer to him, he hadn't meant to but Derek's arms wrapped around him and he knew he needed to be close to him.    
            "Going home," he managed.  Derek's hand rested on the back of his neck, massaging slightly.    
            "It will be better," he whispered, "if I have something to catch me."  Stiles couldn't answer because he was trying to imagine how he was going to deal with the misery.  How was he going to pretend that he'd been kidnapped, it had been horrible, and now he was so thrilled to be safe at home?  Yeah he'd be glad to be home.  His dad was there.  And…Scott.  He half winced.  He really should miss his best friend more.  But that wasn't the point right now.  "If my uncle is telling the truth, if they really want me back.  I can lean on them a bit."  He squeezed Stiles.  "Maybe more than a bit."    
            "That's good," Stiles forced out.  "I don't want you to be alone."  He half had to remind himself.  "So you'll go back to your family.  That's great."  There was no reason to be upset.  They were already splitting up.  It wasn't like he hadn't known that.    
            "It kind of wrecks the whole pretending thing, I know."    
            "No it's okay," Stiles told him, snuggling closer still.  "You would have given me a complex if you hadn't told me."  Derek laughed softly, kissing his temple.    
            "I wouldn't want that."    
            "So we're okay for now?"  Stiles was desperately hoping the answer was yes because there was nothing he wanted more right now than to curl up in bed with Derek and pretend things really were okay.    
            "I'll still have to get in contact with Peter so I'm sure we have a few days."  Stiles jerked up, eyes wide.  
            " _Days_?" he demanded.  "What do you mean _days_?"  They were supposed to have two _weeks_.  That was fourteen days.  Not a _few_.  His chest was so tight he thought it was going to crack.    
            "The longer we let this go on the worse it's going to get.  The more chance that we'll both snap and mate."  Stiles slumped.  He didn't have an argument for this and he knew that.  It would hurt just as much leaving now.  Maybe less.  It only made sense.    
            "Well this sucks," he admitted.  Derek didn't answer.  He didn't have to. 

Derek was awake before him but hadn't moved from bed.  It took Stiles a few moments to note how tired he looked.  "You okay?" he questioned, reaching out to feel his forehead automatically.  He was pretty sure werewolves didn't get fevers but just in case.    
            "I'm fine," Derek told him with a weak smile.  
            "You look tired."  Derek nodded once before looking out the window.  
            "Couldn't sleep."  Stiles snuggled back into his side before,   
            "Why not?"  Derek didn't answer and Stiles held in his sigh.  "Is there anything I can do?" he asked hesitantly.    
            "You're already doing it."  Stiles untangled his leg from the sheet before pulling it back over him and settling in.  He wrapped one arm around Derek and sighed quietly.  "You're not hungry?" Derek questioned.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  
            "Not right now," he said.  He could feel Derek smile against his skin.  
            "I can still tell when you're lying."  
            "Shut up."  Derek sighed and nuzzled into his neck before shifting and tucking Stiles' head onto his shoulder.  Derek's chest pressed out as he inhaled deeply and it was a long moment before he exhaled.  Stiles wondered what he smelled like.  There wasn't anything keeping him from asking but Stiles just felt like now wasn't a time to talk.  He couldn't really identify the feeling.  He just wanted to lay with Derek.  That was it. 

Eventually they drifted from bed; they had to as Derek wasn't willing to put up with Stiles' stomach growling anymore.  After a lazy lunch consisting of Pop-Tarts and chips they got dressed for the day.  Derek dropped to the bed after pulling on a shirt, running a hand through his hair.  He sighed.    
            "We'll have to go talk to Ross."  Stiles almost asked why, glad he stopped his lips.    
            "Oh," he let out after another moment.  "You think he'll let you go?"  Derek smiled bleakly.    
            "He can't stop me."    
            "Oh," he repeated blankly.  "Well what about me?  Do I get to go home?"    
            "That's why we have to talk to Ross."    
            "Oh."  Derek rolled his eyes quickly.  "You think I'll have to stay for the rest of the month?"  One shoulder lifted and dropped in a shrug.  "This sucks," Stiles muttered again.    
            "Yeah," Derek agreed.

 Aiden looked far too happy as he pulled open the door and it immediately made Stiles feel worse.  
            "Stiles!" he greeted, sounding thrilled by his very presence, "And…Derek.  Hey guys."  He frowned quickly then, one hand falling to his hip as he squinted at them.  "Uh.  What's up?"    
            "Can we speak to Ross?"  Aiden nodded after a long beat of silence.    
            "Yeah.  Yeah of course.  He's in his office."  It was another moment before he stepped back to let them in, sighing as he did.  "I was packing," he murmured, following them to the staircase.  Stiles wondered why he sounded so upset about it.  Derek didn't comment and it left Stiles feeling as he should.    
            "Sounds therapeutic," he offered weakly.  Aiden took the lead, shaking his head slowly.  
            "Yeah," he let out.  At the top of the steps he pointed them, "Second door on the right."  Stiles didn't realize until later that this was strictly for his benefit.  Ross pulled open the door with a smile as Stiles approached.  
            "Stiles, Derek, what can I do for you?"    
            "We need to talk to you," Derek murmured, guiding Stiles in with a hand to the small of his back.    
            "Oh," Ross allowed, expression falling.  "I know that tone."  He stepped back and gestured to a sofa just to the left of the door.  Once Stiles and Derek were seated Ross lowered himself into the chair adjacent to them.  "So," he exhaled, pressing his fingers together under his chin, "what's happened?"    
            "I spoke to my uncle," Derek told him.  Ross looked surprised but only for a moment.  
            "And?" he questioned.    
            "He wants me to come home." 

Ross looked to Stiles then, as if he immediately knew what that meant.  Maybe he did.    
            "You can't take Stiles with you unless you've mated."    
            "I know," Derek said before Stiles could even really picture Derek taking him with him.    
            "Of course you wouldn't need my permission to mate," Ross murmured.  "So that's not why you're here."  Derek shook his head.  "Oh Derek," Ross sighed.  "I don't know what's going to happen if you separate.  The only thing I can tell you is it will not be good for either one of you."    
            "This isn't good for either of us either."  Ross sighed.  
            "Not true.  The bond is thriving between you."  Stiles frowned slightly.  
            "You can tell that?  Wait it is?"    
            "Yes.  And yes.  You're both practically vibrating with it."  He shifted a bit in his chair.  "It's actually making me a bit uncomfortable to be honest.  Why you don't just-" He cut off sharply, eyes dropping.  He cleared his throat and shook his head once.  "Not my place.  Sorry."    
            "Why don't we just what?" Stiles had to ask, glancing between him and Derek.    
            "Mate," Ross admitted after a moment, "and figure the rest out from there."    
            "Because our families are on opposite sides of the country."  Ross nodded once, almost unwillingly.    
            "Yes well that's true; long distance would not do well for mates.  But couldn't you just…follow him temporarily?"    
            "It's too dangerous," Derek said, "hunters go where wolves go.  You know that.  Not to mention the dangers of going back to solitary life.  And the danger to him and his father as well."    
            "Having Stiles as your mate would not leave you in a solitary life Derek.  But your other points are valid I'm afraid." 

            "The danger to me?" Stiles questioned.  "What danger to me?"    
            "Wolves with human mates are one thing to hunters, easy targets," Derek murmured.  "It would be easy to dangle your father as bait, then you, eventually getting to me."  Stiles repressed a shiver, not really wanting to know why Derek knew that.    
            "Oh," he settled on finally.  Ross stood, pacing to his desk and back.  His hands settled on his hips and several moments passed in silence.    
            "If you are sure this is the only course of action," he paused and Derek didn't argue, "then we will keep Stiles for a week after your departure, just to make sure that the effects are something he can handle.  Then he will be returned home."  He paced back to his desk, picking up a pen.  "When are you leaving?"    
            "I'll have to call my uncle, a few days maybe."    
            "What do you mean effects?" Stiles questioned, sidetracked.  Ross glanced up, pen hovering.  
            "We're not sure.  Anxiety, insomnia, physical pain, maybe depression.  If it's too bad we'll sedate you until the month is over."  
            "Comforting," Stiles offered dryly.    
            "But he'll be okay?" Derek questioned.    
            "As okay as he can be," Ross said.  Stiles wasn't comforted by that either.  "I'll only say it once again; I do not suggest this course of action Derek." 

They left Ross' office with Peter's phone number.  Stiles was a bit in awe that they would be using cell phones to get in touch.  What he expected, he wasn't really sure.  Aiden was on the top step of the porch, elbows on his knees.  He tore a hand through his hair as they stepped out.    
            "I'm sorry," Derek offered.  Aiden nodded before pushing off the step and turning towards them.    
            "Sorry?" Stiles echoed, "What are you sorry for?"    
            "Packs are tight knit," Aiden offered, "units of cohesion.  We lean on each other and we need each other.  Derek leaving is going to cause some discord within the pack."    
            "Okay.  Makes sense."    
            "Aiden is much more integral to the pack," Derek continued, "much closer to the heart of it."  Stiles only tried to pretend he was following for a moment.    
            "And?"    
            "Derek leaves, causing discourse, I leave too, it puts stress on top of a fracture."    
            "Which he's unwilling to do."    
            "Oh," Stiles allowed very quietly.  "So you can't leave then?"    
            "I still could," Aiden allowed, lips pinching, "but no I won't."    
            "Is it true?" a voice cut in.    
            "You heard me say it Evie," Aiden exhaled, not turning to look as Derek and Stiles did.  The girl nearly ten feet from the porch was all but grinning, clearly delighted with this development.  Stiles realized this must be Genevieve.  "It doesn't change anything," Aiden continued, tone turning frigid.  "I meant what I said.  I won't be changing my mind."  She scowled then, arms crossing tightly.    
            "You say that now," she challenged, "we've been best friends for all our lives Aiden."    
            "No," Aiden let out quietly, "I was your best friend.  You just stuck around as long as it was convenient."    
            "That's not true."    
            "Get out of here," Aiden snapped, eyes glowing, "I have boxes to unpack."  Genevieve stepped back, visibly shaken.    
            "Fine!" she growled in response. 

She was gone in the next second and the door behind them slammed, Aiden disappearing too.    
            "Damn," Stiles exhaled, "that was dramatic."    
            "They're both fools," Derek exhaled, stepping around him and descending the steps.  Stiles followed after another moment.    
            "How so?  She seems like a bitch to me."    
            "She took him for granted.  And he let her."    
            "That seems overly simplified and a bit harsh," Stiles allowed.    
            "You want harsh Stiles?  They're both here they both have feelings for each other and they're still not together.  What about us huh?  What would you give for us to be in their shoes?"  Stiles' jaw fell open and Derek kept walking, leaving him behind.  His feet started again slowly as he blew out a sigh.  Part of him knew the whole Aiden Genevieve thing wasn't that simple.  But at least they were together.  They had the opportunity to try and keep trying if it didn't work.  There weren't ties on either end of the United States tugging them apart.  Stiles' chest ached and he sighed again as his eyes caught Derek moving through the trees rather than going back to the house.  He didn't have to think before following after him once again. 

They walked for what felt like hours.  Finally Derek stopped, leaning against a tree and staring at the ground.  Stiles stopped too, plopping onto the ground gracelessly and quietly trying to catch his breath.    
            "I know we talked about going for a walk," he panted out quietly, "this wasn't quite what I pictured."    
            "You didn't have to follow me," Derek told him.  Stiles didn't bother arguing, watching him instead.  "This is it," Derek said finally.    
            "This is what?"  Stiles glanced around again but he didn't recognize anything.    
            "This is where I first saw you."  Stiles' stomach curled.  
            "What?" he looked around again, still not seeing it.  "But…the creek?  Where's the creek?"  Derek smiled for just a second.  
            "It's further ahead."  Stiles gaped.  
            "What do you mean it's up ahead?"  One of Derek's eyebrows shifted up, appraising him.  "I remember it pretty clearly," Stiles challenged, "I fell in the creek _then_ Shane and _then_ you."    
            "I saw you here," Derek said, "first."  Stiles' head rocked back as he tried to understand.  
            "You stalked me?"  Derek smiled a split second again.  
            "I _followed_ you for a bit, yes."    
            "Why?"    
            "Because I wanted you Stiles.  I wanted you."  He crossed his arms and huffed out a breath.  "I didn't want to want you.  But I did.  And then Shane," he all but growled it, "he was too close to you and I couldn't bear it."    
            "So you challenged him."    
            "Yes."  There were a few beats of silence.  Stiles had no idea what to say.  "You looked at me.  Then you ran from me.  Instincts kicked in Stiles I couldn't stop."  Stiles closed his eyes and cradled his forehead in his palm.  
            "Why are you telling me this?"    
            "Why shouldn't I?"  
            "Because it hurts," Stiles all but flung the words out, so eager to stop the pain.

He covered his eyes with both hands and breathed out slowly.  "It's not supposed to be like this," he muttered morosely.  "Life isn't supposed to be _this_ cruel."  Stiles didn't hear Derek cross to him.  He felt the impact of Derek hitting the dirt.    
            "I'm sorry," he breathed out.  Derek's hands touched him tentatively, pulling him forward and into his lap.  "I just want you to know the truth Stiles."    
            "It's not supposed to be like this," Stiles repeated, "you're supposed to find someone and fall in love and it's just supposed to work.  The big kiss, fireworks, a fucking wedding…"  Derek didn't say anything and Stiles cut off his rambling, horrified.  "That would have been a prime time to tell me to shut up," he mumbled before burying his face in Derek's shoulder.  Derek tugged at his knees until Stiles was straddling him comfortably, his hands moving to Stiles' back and pulling him even closer.    
            "I tell you to shut up we're both just going to sit here and not say anything at all."    
            "Well you say something then," Stiles muttered petulantly.    
            "Did you miss the whole start of that speech?" Derek questioned low in his ear.    
            "Fair point," Stiles allowed after a minute of silence.  "How was it supposed to end?" Stiles questioned, unable not to.  Derek went tense for a few moments, eventually shifting and tugging Stiles' chin up.    
            "Like this," he said, pressing his lips to Stiles' softly. 

Stiles didn't know how long it went on.  He didn't know how long they kissed.  These moments now felt like all he would need for…forever.  Derek finally slowed and backed off about an inch.  He stayed right in Stiles' space, still sharing his air.  "I love you," he breathed, just between them.  Stiles made a sound; he wasn't even sure how to identify it.    
            "God," he let out, all but collapsing against him.  "I love you too," he admitted.  His fingertips tingled at the admission and Stiles wondered if this was shock.  Was this what going into shock felt like?    
            "Stiles," Derek pressed a kiss to his jaw before biting at his neck and pulling back.  "You weren't supposed to…"  He let the sentence drift, exhaling between gritted teeth.    
            "I know," Stiles agreed.  "But you weren't either."    
            "Like I ever had a chance."    
            "Well once I got past you being such a dick all the time," Stiles aimed for teasing but missed.  Derek hummed in agreement.    
            "I was a dick."  Stiles gasped.  
            "First you admit to stalking and then being a dick, we're making such progress."    
            "You need some new jokes," Derek muttered, "these ones suck."    
            "According to you."    
            "I have to admit, this isn't how I thought this conversation was going to go.  But I guess I should have known that I can't predict you."    
            "I can't deal with emotional stress.  You should know this by now."    
            "So you crack jokes.  Bad jokes."    
            "And avoid, avoid, avoid.  It's worked pretty well so far."    
            "Speaking of avoiding."

Derek shifted again, reaching into his pocket.    
            "I know it's not much of a replacement," he said, pressing something small and smooth into Stiles' hand.  Stiles curled his fingers around it, just catching the edges of Derek's fingertips.  It was cold to the touch and Stiles explored the dip of it, stomach sinking as he thought of the very few things it could be.  His eyes slid down slow, a mostly white shell laying against his fingertips.  He exhaled softly, curling his fingers and flipping it over.  The back of the shell was streaked brown.  Derek must have found it in the lake.  Stiles couldn't breathe then.  "Shells in the lake aren't quite the same," Derek said, tone apologetic.  Stiles inhaled quickly and tried to say something, choking on the words instead.    
            "Fuck," finally came out, even though it was a bit mangled, "Derek.  Fuck.  You.  Just."  He clutched the shell so hard the edge dug into his palm.  His eyes were burning and he squeezed them tightly closed.  Pain was rioting.  "Derek," he managed again weakly.    
            "Shh," Derek returned, rubbing a hand up and down his back again.    
            "I don't want you to leave," he managed, voice thick with the tears he was trying to keep in.    
            "I know."  Derek sighed and let his forehead rest on Stiles' shoulder for a moment, "I don't really want to leave either.  I'm terrified of going back.  But it's the best thing for right now.  I have to."    
            "No I know…I have to leave too.  I just…"  Derek hummed in agreement again and Stiles swiped at his eyes with his free hands.  "Wish it was different," he managed.    
            "For now this is the way things are," Derek breathed finally. 

Stiles was trying so hard not to fall asleep.  It was dark, cool; the ground was swaying under him as Derek carried him through the woods once again.  Stiles clutched the edge of Derek's jacket and blinked rapidly.  This was probably the last time this was going to happen.  He couldn't just let go and fall asleep like it was all okay.  He needed this.  He needed every moment possible.  "You can go to sleep."  Derek ducked under a branch.  "It's okay.  I've got you."    
            "Nope," Stiles exhaled, "not even that tired."    
            "Sure you're not," Derek murmured, obviously amused.    
            "'M not.  Shut up you didn't even sleep last night.  What were you watching me sleep or somethin?"  Derek didn't answer and Stiles' eyes widened in the darkness.  "You were?" he gasped, a slow surge of adrenaline working its way through his brain.    
            "Shut up you always make me sound so creepy," Derek let out.          
            "Well watching someone sleep is creepy okay.  I'm gonna watch you sleep tonight and I bet you won't even be able to sleep with me watching you.  Will you?  No you won't."    
            "I'm glad you can hold conversations with yourself now." 

Stiles stuck out his tongue.    
            "I don't need your input if I know you're wrong."  
            "You don't know I'm wrong."  
            "Yeah I do."    
            "As soon as I hit that bed I'm gonna pass out.  You wanna help me out your lazy ass can walk back through the woods."    
            "I can't see and you're the one who walked all the way out here," Stiles pointed out.    
            "One day I'm gonna get the romance thing right."  Stiles tongue tangled in his teeth as he tried to respond.    
            "You're adorable," he finally settled on.  Derek scoffed.  
            "Shut up."    
            "You are.  Werewolves are supposed to be anyways, ask any teenage girl."    
            "Why do you know the opinions of teenage girls?"  It was Stiles' turn to scoff.  
            "Shut up.  Everyone knows the opinion of teenage girls cause they never shut up."    
            "I don't."  
            "Do you even know any teenage girls?"    
            "Yeah," Derek said, "you."  Stiles squawked.    
            "You're being a dick again."  Derek bent closer.  
            "You love it."    
            "I'm not talking to you anymore," Stiles sniffed, emitting what was nearly a squeak when Derek bit his ear.  He couldn't help a soft laugh, guiding Derek's head down and kissing the side of his mouth. 

Stiles might have drifted off, just a bit.  He woke up when Derek tried to extract his arm from between Stiles' body and the mattress.  "Hey where you going?" he mumbled.    
            "Taking my clothes off.  You mind?"  Stiles' lips curled.  
            "Nope."  He managed to unbutton his jeans and kick off one of his shoes by the time Derek dropped back onto the mattress.  Stiles glared at him halfheartedly.  "Werewolf," he muttered.  He went back to his other shoe, sighing when it finally slid off his foot and thumped to the floor.    
            "Still not tired huh?" Derek questioned, face half in the pillow.  Stiles groaned.  
            "You're very annoying you know that."  
            "I thought you were going to watch me sleep and creep me out."    
            "Yes well I've decided to take mercy on you because I know that you are exhausted."  Derek sighed and pulled him closer, ripping his jeans off lazily.  Stiles wriggled out of the ruined pants, settling closer to Derek.  "Thanks," he sighed.    
            "Mm."    
            "At this rate I'm going to have to go shopping before I even go home," Stiles sighed regretfully.    
            "Need to anyways.  Pants are too loose on you.  Make you look homeless."  Stiles half frowned.  
            "Hadn't noticed.  Thanks for the insult?"  Derek tossed an arm over Stiles' ribs, hauling him closer after a moment.  
            "Easy," he breathed out, "falling back into this."    
            "Mmmm you mean the part where we banter playfully instead of quietly admitting our feelings for each other deep in the woods."    
            "Obviously," Derek allowed, kissing his cheek.  "Go to sleep.  Now."    
            "Bossy," Stiles mumbled, but he tucked his leg between Derek's anyways pulling the sheet up and closing his eyes. 

The sun was just coming up when Stiles woke up.  He glanced around the room enough to ascertain that Derek was still in bed with him and still asleep before closing his eyes and snuggling back in.  He was back asleep in moments.  The second time he woke up was much the same.  Unfortunately the third wasn't.  Derek was awake but hadn't moved.  He appeared to be watching the ceiling.  Stiles groaned quietly, tossing a hand over his eyes.  "I don't want to know what you're thinking about do I?"    
            "I have to call Peter," Derek said finally.  Stiles slapped his other hand over his eyes too.  
            "I knew I didn't want to know," he groaned again.    
            "I'll go make some breakfast," Derek said, sitting up, "and call him.  You can stay here."    
            "Are you crazy?" Stiles demanded.  "You're calling him right now and I'm gonna sit here with you.  Let's get this over with."  Derek visibly hesitated.  
            "You sure?"  Stiles rolled his eyes.  
            "Of course I'm sure.  Like I'm just gonna let you do this alone."    
            "Huh," Derek let out, running a hand through his hair before pushing off the bed and going to the closet for his jacket.  He pulled his phone out and returned to bed, flipping it open and sighing.    
            "You can totally do this," Stiles told him.  "Be…aggressive.  Not too…aggressive.  That maybe wasn't the best cheer to go with."  Derek blinked at him.  
            "Did you seriously.  Just.  Do a cheer."    
            "I can try to do a cartwheel if you want.  Not guaranteeing it will end well."    
            "Stop," Derek exhaled, closing his eyes, "please just stop."    
            "He's surly he's smart but he's really got a lot of heart he's Derek.  Yeah, yeah, he's Derek?"  Derek rolled his eyes, lips fighting a smile as he did.    
            "I shudder to think how your mind works."  Stiles made a face, swatting at Derek when a pillow slapped into his face.    
            "Alright I've done my part and lightened the mood," Stiles sighed, "it's your turn.  Unless you want to put this whole thing off until next week.  Because I would not be wholly opposed." 

Derek sobered quickly, eyes dropping to the phone in his hands.  Stiles sighed and scooted closer, resting his head on Derek's shoulder.  "Seriously though, I'm right here."  Derek nodded, thumb navigating his phone slowly.  He hesitated a long moment before pressing the last button and putting it to his ear.  Stiles could faintly hear as it rang once before connecting.  Derek tensed and Stiles slipped his arm through Derek's, leaning on him a bit more.    
            "Hello?"    
            "Uncle Peter," Derek said after a moment of silence that felt strained.           
            "Derek," Peter returned and he sounded so happy Stiles couldn't help a smile.  "It's good to hear your voice again."  Derek's lips opened but nothing came out.  "Are you," Peter continued after another moment, "Have you changed your mind?"    
            "If you're sure that everyone wants me back," Derek let out slowly, "then yes."  He looked to Stiles and Stiles nodded, hoping his expression was encouraging.  "Yes I've changed my mind."  There were several moments of silence.  Stiles could hear his heart beating painfully loud.    
            "Derek," Peter finally said, voice strained, "you're coming home."    
            "Yeah," Derek agreed quietly, ducking his head slightly.    
            "When?" Peter questioned next, "When can we leave?"  He'd recovered quickly and his excitement blared through the phone.  It made Stiles' stomach twist.    
            "Uh…tom-"  
            " _What_?" Stiles hissed.  Derek froze, eyes flicking to Stiles.  "Not tomorrow," Stiles pleaded, "Derek please not tomorrow I can't."  He was clutching him suddenly, lungs locked up and unable to breathe.  It felt so much like a panic attack, only staved off when Derek said,   
            "Not tomorrow, ah…a few days."  Stiles' chest loosened suddenly, sucking air in as his body sagged.    
            "Okay," Peter agreed quickly, "fantastic.  I'll just come by Monday then?"    
            "Okay."    
            "Good.  I'll see you soon Derek."    
            "See you," Derek agreed. 

He clicked his phone closed and sighed before falling back to the wall, tugging Stiles with him.  "I thought my heart was going to explode," Derek admitted.  He took Stiles' hand and laid it over his chest.  His heart was pounding out a rhythm so fast it made Stiles' head ache.    
            "You're fine," he said, "you're going home.  Home Derek."    
            "Home," Derek echoed quietly.  "It feels like none of this is actually happening.  Like it's all some weird dream.  I don't even know if I want to wake up."    
            "I know what you mean," Stiles let out, "I can't even imagine going home.  After all of this."  Derek was quiet for a few seconds.  
            "I'm sort of excited.  Part of me at least," he whispered.  "And it feels wrong to be excited.  Isn't it?"    
            "No," Stiles said after a long moment, "going home is gonna be good for you.  I can feel it.  I almost wish I could be there to see it."    
            "But I have to leave you."    
            "I know."  Stiles sat up and smirked down at him.  "It's actually sort of nice, you doing the leaving.  Now I get to play the victim and you have to twirl your mustache."  Derek didn't comment on the obvious fault in the beat of his heart and Stiles was grateful.    
            "If I had a mustache you'd never let the creepy comments go."  Stiles barked out a quick laugh.  
            "Um hello no one would.  Small children would scream in terror."  Suddenly Stiles was picturing Derek in a bowler with a thick mustache curled at the tips with his leather jacket and jeans, creeping on the edge of a park.  "Oh god," he exhaled; face scrunching as his lips curled in another grin.  
            "I don't want to know," Derek told him.  "I'm going to shower."  He slapped Stiles with a pillow again before easing from bed.  Stiles just laughed to himself, trying to clear the image from his mind. 

Stiles was settled on the futon with a book, because he honestly didn't know what to do with himself, when Derek descended the stairs.    
            "So," Derek paused halfway down and leaned against the banister.  "What do you want to do today?"  Stiles glanced back to the book.  
            "Um.  I don't really know?"  Derek nodded and dropped down the rest of the steps before wandering into the kitchen.  
            "Well it won't take me long to pack," he called before appearing with a pack of Pop Tarts, "and I don’t really feel like doing that today anyways."    
            "What do you feel like doing?"    
            "I asked you first."    
            "Well then I want really hot goodbye sex."  That earned Stiles a glower that was oddly reminiscent of Tapioca.  Somehow more fond though.  He blew out a sigh.  "No more sex then?  The drunk sex was the last?"    
            "The drunk part was your idea.  And yes."    
            "That's depressing.  It also means it's your job to come up with a plan because I had an idea.  That you cruelly shot down."    
            "For your own safety," Derek reminded him dryly.    
            "You know you've used that excuse like fifty times and it's old.  You've never really hurt me and even if you did sex is an excellent pain reliever.  At least I've heard that.  I haven't had a ton of chances to experiment with it.  What do you say?"  Derek rolled his eyes in response.    
            "And if we actually mate and you have to come to Maine with me?  Never see your dad or friends again?"    
            "That could be a problem if I even knew how to 'actually' mate," Stiles pointed out, using air quotes.  "No one's ever given me the werewolf birds and bees."  Derek's glare was mellow again.  Stiles bit at his smile.    
            "Think of something else you goofball."    
            "Goofball?  I am wounded."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay well now that I've put it off as long as humanly possible, which was not the plan at all, angst is on track for next chapter.
> 
> Also sorry about the sucking at deadlines. I'm going to try to get better. Seriously. 
> 
> Gah I'm just so depressed now.
> 
> I'm sorry. 
> 
> I tried to stuff in fluff wherever I could.  
> :'(
> 
> Also thank you all I don't know why you haven't abandoned me yet.
> 
> Oh hey what would you guys like to see Stiles and Derek do next chapter?? I'm always up for shamelessly asking for ideas. Especially at 4:30AM.


	19. I Don't Want to Close My Eyes

            "Just tell me what you want to do," Derek said again.  "Anything.  Anything other than sex.  Money's not a problem.  We can drive just about anywhere in a few hours.  Tell me what you want to do."  Stiles blew out another breath.  
            "But I want sex," he whined.   
            "Stiles.  You don't decide something we're going back to the lake."  Stiles rolled his eyes and went back to his book for a few seconds.   
            "You serious about driving?" he questioned, glancing at Derek.  Derek hesitated before answering.  
            "Sure."   
            "Let's go to Seattle then.  I want a picture of you and me at the Space Needle."  Both Derek's eyebrows rose.  
            "Seriously?"  Stiles sniffed and went back to his book.   
            "If you don't fine I'll just stay here.  Maybe I'll have sex by myself."  Derek jumped on the futon, smiling softly.   
            "Of course I want to go see the Space Needle with you, cupcake."   
            "Really?"   
            "If you're sure you want to be in a car for about four hours."   
            "Like we haven't done it before."  
            "I'll be driving fast."   
            "Like we haven't done that before either."   
            "I'll go talk to Ross then." 

Nearly half an hour later they were getting in the car and Stiles was actually pretty excited.  He'd never been to Seattle.  He couldn't help the feeling that this was going to be something else just for them.  Something he'd be able to look back on.  And pictures.  Not that he knew right now how he was going to hide them from his dad.  But he did know he wanted them and he was going to get them.   
            "We need a disposable camera," Stiles told him.  Derek glanced to him before looking back to the road.  
            "Ah.  About that…  I can't have my picture taken Stiles."  Stiles frowned.   
            "Why?"   
            "The flash," Derek said, "it makes my eyes flare."   
            "So we turn the flash off," Stiles returned.   
            "Oh," Derek let out slowly, "yeah maybe that could work."   
            "Or you could just close your eyes," Stiles teased.   
            "Perfect solution," Derek released dryly.   
            "I've always wanted to take a road trip," Stiles continued after another moment.  "Course I thought it'd be in my jeep but this is almost as good I guess."   
            "I don't get the big deal," Derek admitted.  "You get in your car and drive and then you're somewhere else.  Nothing really changes."   
            "Yeah but you weren't trying to road trip were you?" Stiles challenged.  " _Road trip_ ," he repeated, spreading his hands out to frame the windshield.  "Gas station snacks, shitty radio stations, cramped in a tight space together, hours of boredom, and the entire continental US at our disposal.  This is what life is about."  Derek smiled and shook his head but didn't argue. 

When they stopped for gas Stiles loaded up on snacks, got a street map of Seattle, and a disposable camera.  Derek gave him a quick look when he ripped open a bag of chips but again didn't say anything.  It was bittersweet and Stiles frowned for a moment before pushing the feeling away and shoving three chips in his mouth.  "I spy," he mumbled as he chewed, "with my little eye…something yellow."   
            "Are you serious," Derek muttered.   
            "Road trip," Stiles said again, offering him a chip.   
            "I'm not eating that."   
            "Really?  Raw bacon is okay but no potato chips?"  Derek pulled a different chip from the bag and crunched it between his teeth.   
            "Happy?"   
            "I guess," Stiles conceded, eating the chip he was holding.  "But I still spy something yellow."  Derek gave him a long look before sighing.  
            "The lines on the road," he guessed.  Stiles grinned.  
            "Nope."   
            "Those wildflowers," Derek said after another minute.  
            "Nope."  Derek scowled at him.   
            "The sun."  Stiles couldn't help a quick laugh.   
            "Uh uh."   
            "That dead grass."   
            "No."  Several more long moments of silence passed.   
            "Any of the chips in that bag."   
            "No."   
            "People really have fun doing this?"   
            "Yeah," Stiles laughed. 

Derek was less than amused when he finally gave up and Stiles told him it was the logo on the bag of chips.   
            "I don't think this game is fun at all," he groused.  Stiles ate more too keep his laughter somewhat quiet.   
            "You're just mad because you lost."   
            "You picked something smaller than a dime."  
            "You have awesome werewolf vision."   
            "And you're holding that against me."  Stiles took a deep breath and sobered.  
            "With great power…comes great responsibility."  Derek blinked at him a few times.  "Come on!  Spiderman!  Did you even have a childhood?"   
            "Spiderman," Derek repeated blankly.  Stiles groaned and buried his head in his hands.   
            "Do you know any superheroes at all?  Please say yes.  Please."   
            "Of course.  There's Superman.  And Batman."  Stiles laughed, entirely relieved.   
            "Good answer."  Derek jumped in surprise when Stiles swayed to kiss his cheek, flushing just barely.  "I spy," Stiles continued.  
            "Stiles," Derek groaned.   
            "With my little eye…something green."   
            "What if I don't care what you spy?"   
            "Then I'll have to play by myself and I guarantee that will be more annoying." 

            "The logo on the label of the Mountain Dew," Derek tried.  Stiles shook his head.   
            "Should we limit the number of guesses you get?"  That earned him a glare.   
            "The grass."  
            "You already said that."   
            "It's different grass," Derek pointed out.   
            "Well then I couldn't possibly have spied it from all the way back there now could I?"  Derek mumbled something Stiles didn't catch.   
            "The Mountain Dew inside the bottle."   
            "No."  
            "The cap?"  
            "No.  It has nothing to do with the Mountain Dew," Stiles allowed, having mercy on him.   
            "Is it anything in your bag of snacks?"   
            "Bordering on cheating but no."  Derek was silent for several more miles.  
            "Okay I give up," he sighed finally.  Stiles took a moment to revel in his victory before,  
            "Your eyes."   
            "My eyes!" Derek challenged.  Stiles nodded, smiling.  "How am I supposed to guess my eyes?"   
            "You have a mirror right in front of you," Stiles pointed out.  Derek growled quietly and Stiles bit his lips to keep from laughing again.   
            "You drive me crazy," Derek said, glaring out the windshield.  
            "You're too competitive," Stiles returned.  The next hour and a half passed in silence. 

It was a relief to finally hit Seattle and climb out of the car.  Stiles stretched several times before rounding the hood.  "Admit it, this is pretty cool."   
            "Mmhmm," Derek allowed, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing up and down the street.  "You know where we're going?" he questioned, glancing back to Stiles.  Stiles held up the map.  
            "Yup.  Even got dinner already planned out."   
            "Impressive," Derek allowed, lips curling just barely.   
            "I'm going to pretend that wasn't patronizing Mr. I-Can't-Win-I-Spy."  Derek leaned closer before snapping his teeth quietly and Stiles jumped before smacking him with the map.  "Behave."  All Derek did was smirk.  After another moment he leaned against Stiles, legs pinning his to the car.   
            "Alright so where are we going?"  Stiles spread the map out on the hood, only shaking slightly.   
            "Okay," he murmured, scanning the map, "we are here…" his finger trailed along the streets they'd need to take.  "We're going that way."   
            "Lead on." 

…

Stiles was exhausted by the time they made it back to the house.  He waited just long enough to make sure Derek's arm was around him before he slipped under.  They had another lazy morning and Stiles couldn't shake the weight slowly pressing down on his chest.   
            "Derek."  
            "Mm."   
            "Derek."  
            "What?"  He was still wrapped around Stiles, the word ghosting over his throat.  But Stiles couldn't seem to find the words.  He pushed Derek onto his back before straddling him carefully.   
            "Derek."  
            "Stiles," wary this time, Derek's body slowly tensing as he stared up at him.  Stiles leaned down slowly, kissing just the edge of his jaw as his body caged Derek's.   
            "We don't have much time left."   
            "No," Derek agreed, swallowing.   
            "I want-" But the sentence clogged in his throat.  Derek caught his hands as they slid up.   
            "I know what you want.  But we can't."  Stiles groaned, fingers curling around nothing.  It was so easy to be crude when he was joking.  But now he couldn't even get the words out.   
            "Please?"  Derek kissed his forehead and Stiles groaned again.   
            "Let's skip the part where I ask what you want to do and you say sex and I tell you no okay?"  Another kiss was pressed to his forehead and Derek gently lifted him off before placing him back on the mattress.  He crossed to the dresser and pulled out a shirt, shaking it open and pulling it over his head.  Scooping jeans from the floor he slid them on as Stiles watched.  "You haven't seen Taylor in a while," he offered, smoothing his hair.  Stiles frowned at him.   
            "I can visit him after."  Derek reached back into the dresser and threw clothes at him.  
            "Visit him now." 

Fifteen minutes later Stiles found himself on Brennan's porch, alone.  He huffed another sigh before lifting his hand to knock.  Taylor was zipping on a hoodie as he answered, scratching his chest absently.   
            "Stiles," he smiled, "hey."   
            "Hey," Stiles returned blankly.  Taylor's smile fell.  
            "Come on in."   
            "So how much have you heard?" Stiles questioned, dropping into the chair he was directed to.   
            "The latest?  Aiden's not leaving.  Why?"   
            "You know why Aiden's not leaving?"   
            "No.  Delighted as Genevieve was she didn't share that detail."   
            "Derek's leaving instead."  Taylor was silent a long moment.   
            "Like you're leaving together?"  Stiles shook his head.  "Well no offense then but why are you here?"   
            "Derek wanted me to visit while things were still normal."  Taylor was silent again.   
            "He's trying not to have sex with you huh?"   
            "He says we might lose control and mate."   
            "Oh well it's very responsible of you not to push him.  Very responsible."   
            "What do you mean push him?" 

Taylor smirked at him.   
            "Come on he's a werewolf Stiles.  It's not that hard to push his buttons."   
            "Are you suggesting I seduce him?"   
            "Why not?"  Stiles shook his head.  
            "No it's not a good idea.  What if we do end up stuck together?  He'd be pissed."   
            "Would you be?"  This made Stiles pause before shaking his head again.  
            "You're not helping."   
            "Yeah I am."  Taylor flopped into a chair too, flinging his legs over the arm of it.  "Come on think about it Stiles.  You me and Aubrey all get stuck here.  We all end up falling in love.  Aubrey's pregnant and freaking glowing.  I hardly even have nightmares anymore.  And you…you're different too.  You think it's just coincidence?"   
            "You sound high."  Taylor shot him what was very nearly a glare.   
            "Don't you believe in fate?"  Stiles laughed.  He couldn't help it.   
            "Fate.  Yeah sure.  Why wouldn't I?  Oh except for the fact that my dad's in Beacon Hills and Derek is headed back to fucking Maine?"   
            "Maybe you're supposed to go with him."  Stiles shook his head again.   
            "What about my dad then?"   
            "What about him?  You've been doing just fine haven't you?"   
            "I haven't had a choice," Stiles returned.   
            "Really?  You and Derek leave all the time.  How many times has he left you alone?  How many times have you had the chance to run or even call for help?  But you didn't did you?"  
            "Why did I think we were friends?" 

They were both silent for several moments and Stiles' thoughts drifted.  What if he and Derek did end up stuck together?  Would that really be so horrible?  Surely he could see his dad eventually.  After a few years.   
            "I'm just trying to make a point," Taylor said.  "You're in love with him and you know it.  That's not the sort of thing you just throw away.  I know I don't see things the same way you do.  I don't have anyone waiting for me or looking for me.  So no I don't know what that's like I admit it okay.  But you love him.  And he loves you."   
            "If we're just supposed to be together then why is it so hard?"   
            "Is it hard or you're making it hard?"   
            "Okay, okay, enough.  My relationship with Derek is officially off the discussion board."   
            "Fine.  So Derek's leaving.  What's the plan for you?"   
            "Don't know.  Ross said I'll stay here for a few days and we'll see what the side effects are."   
            "Side effects?"   
            "When you split from your mate.  Sometimes there are negative side effects."  Stiles was so tempted to add an _and that's why I didn't run_ but stopped himself.   
            "Oh," Taylor allowed.  "That's unfortunate."  Stiles laughed just once.  
            "Yeah." 

It was easier when Brennan got back.  At first Stiles thought it was going to make him feel like a third wheel but he only lightened the atmosphere.  In the end Stiles stayed much longer than he planned, surprised to see the sun teasing the horizon when Derek finally knocked.   
            "I made dinner," he offered.   
            "Is that your subtle way of asking me to come back?"  Derek's lips curled.  
            "Yeah I guess so."  Stiles turned back in time to see Brennan and Taylor sharing a look.   
            "Alright I'm going," he told them, partially enjoying the way they both jerked back to him.  
            "Okay," Brennan recovered first.  "We'll see you later then right Tay?"  Taylor smacked his chest without looking away from Stiles.  
            "See you later.  Think about what I said yeah?"  There was an awkward press of silence.   
            "Yeah thanks for that," Stiles returned, sarcasm saturating the words.  Taylor winked, completely unrepentant.  Stiles rolled his eyes before heading out the door with Derek.  He couldn't help glancing to the woods as they made their way back to Derek's.  Stiles had to remind himself.  Derek's house.   
            "Do I want to know?" Derek questioned.  Stiles glanced to him.  For the first time he thought about it.  Really thought about it.  If he did decide to seduce Derek, and he was reasonably sure that he'd be able to, and if they did mate and if they were stuck with each other for the rest of their lives.   
            "No," he sighed, "you don't." 

It was horrible of him to think that way.  Wasn't it?  It had to be.  But he couldn't stop the thoughts from moving through his head anyways.  It was so damn tempting.  If he just turned and walked into the woods, Derek would follow.   
            "Your heart is racing," Derek offered.   
            "Yeah well," Stiles sighed in return.   
            "What's wrong?"  Stiles' feet stopped and he shot Derek a significant look.  "Right," Derek allowed, chin dropping as he stopped as well.  Stiles didn't know what to do.  What if Derek left in the next few days and he never saw him again?   
            "Don't be mad at me."  Derek's head shot back up and he stared at Stiles.  
            "What?"  Stiles had trouble drawing in the next breath.   
            "Don't be mad at me.  Please don't."  
            "What?  Why- Why would I be mad?"  Stiles tugged his lip into his mouth and bit down.   
            "Please," he managed again, one foot already starting to slide away.  The decision had already been made, he could feel it.      
            "Stiles."  Derek's words were ringing in his ears.  _You ran from me and I couldn't stop_.  Recognition showed in Derek's face for just a second before Stiles took off.  He couldn't hear anything but his feet hitting the ground and his lungs dragging air in before letting it back out.  Derek wasn't chasing, not yet. 

Stiles was ridiculously glad the sun hadn't set yet as he jumped over yet another root in his path.  Sweat was gathering on his brow and sliding down his neck.  He wanted to stop, if for no other reason than to see if Derek actually was following him, but stopping didn't seem like the best idea.  What if he stopped too soon and all Derek did was haul him back to the house for a lecture?  God that would be embarrassing.  Swiping a hand over his brow quickly he tried to run faster.  There was a growl behind him and Stiles' stomach tightened in anticipation.  He shouldn't be doing this but…god he wanted it so badly.  He hadn't wanted anything so selfishly, not that he could remember at least.  He half fell into a tree and shoved back off of it, wiping at his brow again.  Suddenly Stiles was moving backwards, gasping for air as his back slammed into a tree.  Derek was barely centimeters from him, hands wrapped up in his jacket as he pushed him into the tree again.  "Stiles!" he growled, eyes flashing bright blue.  His hands were shaking so placed them on Derek's shoulders.   
            "I love you," and that was half a plea in and of itself.  Derek growled again, catching his lips in a kiss that drew a whimper from Stiles.  Stiles pressed back against the tree, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck and squirming until he could slide his legs around Derek's waist.  Derek ground against him immediately and Stiles moaned in response.  This was what he wanted, Derek this close to him.  Thinking of nothing but fucking him.  Claiming him one last time. 

The bark pulled his shirt up and scraped against his skin as Derek dragged him down.  Stiles curled his hands and didn't make a sound.  He was only straddling Derek's lap for a matter of seconds before Derek flipped them, claws raking through his jeans.  He reached down to help yank the fabric out of the way.  For the first time Stiles wondered just how gone Derek was, if this was actually dangerous.  He thought it wasn't.  Even if this was purely Derek's wolf and his human side was gone Stiles thought Derek's wolf didn't want to hurt him.  Even the first time he'd been somewhat cautious.  Then again his back felt slick, slicker than it should.  Stiles thought maybe he was bleeding.  If Derek had noticed it certainly wasn't stopping him.  His heart ratcheted up just a bit and he tugged Derek down for another kiss.  Derek's teeth dug into his lip and Stiles gasped and moaned in rapid succession.  _Fangs_ some distant part of his brain reminded him.  Fangs not teeth.  He moaned again and it sounded pained.  Derek moved to his neck, rough tongue licking a long stripe and Stiles' hands were curling again.  More fabric ripped and Derek was settling between his legs.  The tip of him was already pressing against him and it was so sudden Stiles couldn't breathe.  The wolf was too impatient, it must have been because Derek started pressing in without anything more.  Stiles forced himself to breathe deep, trying to spread his legs.  Derek pulled back unexpectedly, moving forward again immediately.  Stiles groaned as his head fell back. 

It took a few moments for him to realize that Derek wasn't teasing him, at least not intentionally.  The tip of his cock was already slick and he was rubbing it against Stiles.  Stiles managed a weak moan, kissing Derek's neck.  Derek shuddered and Stiles gripped his shoulders tighter.  With a shallow thrust just the head slid in and Stiles groaned with the pain of it, knuckles whitening as he held onto Derek as hard as he could.  "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he hissed out, a scream leaving his throat raw as Derek pushed the rest of the way in.  He stilled over Stiles and Stiles had the feeling it was as much of an apology as he was going to get.  Not like he deserved one.  He'd wanted this.  He still did.  Derek bit his neck, breaking through the skin.  Stiles threw his head back to give him more access even as he gritted his teeth.  It felt almost…right to bare his throat now.  Derek's hips rolled back and Stiles moaned again, forcing himself to try and relax.  Derek growled, the noise vibrating along Stiles' neck, as he thrust in again.  Stiles dragged in a deep breath and held it before letting it out slowly between his teeth.  He just needed to relax.  It wouldn't hurt if he just relaxed.  He lifted each hip as Derek withdrew again, trying to loosen up.  Derek was kissing him suddenly, hands gripping his hips as his blood soaked tongue slid along Stiles'.  Stiles groaned in what might have been a mixture of surprise and disgust.  But his muscles were loosening so he focused on the kiss, hands slipping onto Derek's back and grabbing handfuls of his shirt.  Derek's claws dug in and Stiles gasped at the resulting burn.  His chest rose and fell as he tried to keep breathing.  Maybe it was supposed to hurt.  Maybe it was better that it did. 

Derek thrust back in and Stiles' body gave.  Another groan slid out as Derek licked his neck again.  Stiles thought he could almost feel the last moment before Derek's control snapped totally.  He could feel it in the lines of Derek's body the way they were pressed together so completely.  Derek bit his neck again, lower almost to his shoulder.  Stiles fingers tried to dig into Derek's back just to hold on.  In the end there was nothing he could do but let the earth cradle him as Derek drove him into it repeatedly.  It was a relief when Derek's knot swelled too much for him to move and Stiles could breathe again.  "Fuck," he exhaled, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck again.  He could still taste blood in his mouth.  Derek rocked against him, the motion forced gentle.  Stiles hummed.  Yeah this part he could handle.  Another rock and Stiles hummed again, dick giving a twitch of interest.  A glance down revealed it lying limp against his stomach.  Stiles reached down and stroked gently, toes curling as muscles tightened around Derek and drew another whimper from him.  Derek groaned as he sagged against Stiles, burying his face in Stiles' neck.  The next roll of his hips was unexpected and Stiles moaned.  Everything felt slick and warm and pleasure was starting to curl low in his gut.  Derek's teeth dragged along his shoulder, tugging at the skin.  Stiles managed a quiet groan, inhaling deeply before risking another stroke of his hand.  Derek was moving sluggishly but their eyes met as he looked up.  Stiles closed the distance between them and kissed him softly.   
            "You're hurt," Derek breathed into him and Stiles' lips curled in a bittersweet smile.  
            "I'm fine," he returned.   
            "You will be."  Stiles was lifted slowly, awkwardly sort of straddling Derek. 

Derek's hands moved to his back.  "So stupid," Derek breathed, "bleeding, hurt, Stiles- _god_."  Warmth spread through Stiles and he gasped, back arching and shoving him further onto Derek.   
            "I'm fine," he mumbled again, stubbornly.  Derek shushed him quickly with the press of his lips, hands sliding up and down his back slowly.  "Mm-fuck that doesn't feel bad," Stiles admitted.  Derek's hands went to his neck next, fingertips sliding along gently.  More warmth and Stiles' eyelids drooped.  "Making me sleepy," he let out, hands falling lax to his sides.   
            "Good," Derek exhaled.  His neck seemed to take the longest and Stiles barely managed a hum of protest when Derek rearranged him on the ground, hands moving down to his thighs.  Stiles blinked a few times, trying to stay alert.  He felt drugged and stupid.  Lips brushed over his temple and hands moved to his hips.  There was a flare of awareness.  
            "No," he managed, "leave 'em."   
            "Go to sleep."  Stiles searched out Derek's wrists by touch, holding onto them as much as he could.  His fingers weren't too intent on cooperating.   
            "Please.  Want 'em."   
            "Stiles…"   
            "Please," he echoed, eyelids fluttering as he tried to keep them up.  It was a losing battle and Stiles thought he must have been more emotionally strained than he even realized.  He couldn't think of another reason to explain the sudden exhaustion.  Maybe it was the healing.  Maybe it didn't even matter.  There was a gentle lap of panic as his eyes closed again and he could feel himself slipping away.  The last thing he felt was the brush of another kiss. 

Stiles' hands were searching out Derek before his eyes were even open.  The rest of the bed was empty.  It was only when he sat up that Derek pushed to his feet and crossed the room slowly.  Stiles drew his lip into his mouth, biting down just enough to keep him from blurting something stupid out.  A few moments passed in silence and Derek slowly sat on the edge of the mattress, clearly debating whether or not to do it.   
            "Are you mad?" Stiles finally questioned softly.  
            "I don't know," Derek returned.  "I think I should be but then I think I shouldn't be.  I _told_ you it was a horrible idea."   
            "It wasn't horrible."  Derek leveled him with a glare and Stiles ducked his head at the intensity of it.   
            "You were covered in blood.  I could have killed you."   
            "Debatable," Stiles rejected the thought.  "Your wolf is careful of me too.  As careful as a wolf can be at least."  He glanced down for the first time naked skin, sheets, and nothing else meeting his gaze.  Lifting the sheet with one hand he peeked at his stomach, pleased on an almost ridiculous level to see scratch marks still there.   
            "You're stupid," Derek told him, tone verging on petulant.  Stiles didn't argue.  He didn't want to discuss why he'd wanted to keep them.  
            "I'm _fine_ ," he stressed again instead.  "The healing thing is pretty handy," he offered a careful smile, unsurprised when it wasn't returned.  Derek looked away, crossing his arms and pushing back off the bed.   
            "You should dress," he said, the words barely loud enough for Stiles to hear.  Dread surged through him so thickly that his breath caught and he stared at Derek wordlessly.  He paced towards the door before half turning back.  "Peter's waiting for me." 

Stiles was shaking.  In fact it was sort of an all out body tremble.  It wouldn't stop no matter how many times he paused to close his eyes and inhale and exhale slowly and carefully.  It was his fault and he knew that.  He knew it but it hurt.  The knowledge of it sat firmly in his chest and burned there.  It felt a lot like regret.  Stiles didn't even know what day it was anymore, how had he lost track?  But it didn't matter.  Derek was leaving now.  In a matter of minutes.  His hand gave a hard spasm, as if it was reaching out for something but gave up.  He understood why Derek was doing it.  Even if it felt a bit like this was his punishment.  He understood.  He moved for the door and had to stop again, both hands lifting to his mouth and covering it.  Stiles didn't even understand the motion.  Had he been about to scream?  Another deep breath and he slowly let his hands drop.  He had to go.  He had to do this.  More importantly he had to be strong.  This was happening whether he liked it or not and having a breakdown or panic attack would only make it harder.  He had to hold on…at least until Derek was gone.  _Gone_.   
            "Fuck," he whispered.  Derek could probably still hear him downstairs.  He had to pull himself together.  Stiles shook out his hands furiously, trying to force the trembles out.  It didn't work and he gritted his teeth before another deep breath.  He slid his left hand into his pocket and grasped the shell tightly.  He could do this.  He could. 

There was a duffel bag sitting on the futon.  Stiles stared at it for a moment that stretched impossibly long.  Maybe this was all a dream.  A nightmare.  The bag wasn't even that big he reasoned.  It couldn't possibly fit everything Derek was taking with him.  Everything that wasn't Stiles.   
            "Hey."  How did Derek know he was drowning in his thoughts?  Was it that obvious?        
            "Yeah," Stiles muttered stupidly, giving his head a shake.  There was a weird lull in the conversation and Derek crossed to him, reaching into his jacket.   
            "Here," Derek said, pulling out a thick envelope.  "Ross took care of having them developed, just in case you know."  Stiles hummed agreement, the most he could manage, as he took the envelope.  He took it in both hands, one fingertip teasing under the flap of paper before he folded it back into place.      
            "Thank you," he forced out, voice thick.    
            "Yeah," Derek said then.  For a moment Stiles felt ridiculous.  As if he'd lost the script to his own life.  He knew what was supposed to happen but it wouldn't make sense in his head.  He couldn't figure out how it was actually going to happen.  How were they going to do this?  How were they going to say goodbye?  Derek turned stiffly and went to the futon.  He gripped the strap of the duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder.  Stiles watched him and struggled to swallow.  His eyes were watering and he was going to cry.  Forcing himself to the door he twisted the knob and eased it open.  His face felt numb. 

Stiles went first.  He just needed out of the house- that and watching Derek walk out would be too much.  Just the idea of it was twisting his stomach into an unrecognizable shape that he never wanted to feel again.  Outside, on both the lawn and in the little dirt street, what looked like every member of the pack was gathered.  Stiles hadn't seen this many people at once in months.  He caught sight of Taylor, Aiden, and Shane too but there was no comfort to be found from any of them.  At first he wanted to be angry that they were all here to witness this like it was some sort of public entertainment unfolding just for them.  But then Stiles thought about it.  If they all just went about their day and pretended it didn't happen, if they didn't acknowledge this…that would be so much worse.  Derek crossed to his car, dropping his bag in the trunk and closing it quietly.  Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, fingers curling into his biceps painfully.  Peter clapped a hand on Derek's shoulder, leaning in to whisper something to him.  Derek ducked his chin and Stiles could only see the top of his head, noting for the first time the ridges through his hair.  Paths torn by fingers.  Peter released him and got in the driver's seat, starting the engine after another moment.  Stiles' breath caught again, throat closing over as his eyes burned.  Derek pushed off the trunk, walking to him.   
            "Don't," Stiles choked out, "please don't I'm gonna lose it if you say anything."  He sucked in another quick breath, holding it.  Derek nodded just once, hand settling on the side of his neck, one fingertip straying onto his shoulder.  He leaned forward and Stiles swore the world was moving in slow motion for those brief seconds before Derek kissed him.  It was barely a kiss, just a peck really.  But then Derek was pulling him even closer, stretching up and kissing Stiles' brow.  His lips moved against Stiles' skin and Stiles realized he was saying something without actually saying a word. 

Derek's hand dropped away and he stepped back.  It was quick then, so quick.  He nodded again and turned, walking to the car.  Stiles gripped his arms so tightly his fingernails slid before settling in again.  A tear slipped out and he forced a breath in, nearly whimpering.  He had to hold on.  Almost done.  Almost.  Derek ducked into his car and Stiles thought for the first time it was strange that he wasn't driving.  Another tear tracked down his cheek.  The door shut behind him and Stiles lost just a bit of his control, more tears falling.  Peter reversed so quickly dust flew.  Stiles thought it was an act of mercy.  Two more seconds, he couldn't help but count, and the car was down the road, five more and it was out of sight.  Stiles groaned, bringing his hands to his eyes and pressing hard.  He was being hugged by someone, he didn't care to look.  But then there was another set of arms and even another.  The pack was drawing tight around him.  As if he was really one of them.  As if they could fix this.  Stiles' chest contracted until it felt like it cracked.  "Fuck."  Dragging in a ragged breath Stiles tried to blink away the tears.  " _Fuck_."  His hands fell and gripped at skin and fabric.   
            "Breathe Stiles," Ross' voice was quiet but insistent.   
            "Do something," he pleaded weakly, "fuck do something please."  He felt a pinch, barely.  "I can't do this," he admitted, faces blurred too badly for him to know who he was even speaking to.  Wiping at his eyes again did no good.  "I can't do this."   
            "We've got you," someone told him, maybe Aiden.   
            "I can't…" Stiles breathed again. 

Passing out was a relief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVERYBODY TAKE A DEEP BREATH. OKAY. 
> 
> OKAY. 
> 
> I KNOW. 
> 
> TRUST ME. 
> 
> At least we reached a compromise on the sex because that wasn't supposed to happen. 
> 
> Also sorry for all the summarizing but this chapter had to get moving. So yeah. 
> 
> IT'S NOT OVER. I PROMISE.
> 
> Actually there might be like..five more chapters. I'm not sure yet. 
> 
> Umm....oh.  
> [ MORE PEOPLE. ](http://attolians.tumblr.com/post/32644651593)
> 
> Those should be the last new characters. One of them _technically _isn't new so.__
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _Officially shutting up now._  
> _
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _Sorry this was so late._  
>  Sorry if there's typos. (I know they're there but I NEED sleep.)  
> I think that's it. K thx bye.


	20. I Don't Want to Miss a Thing

Derek stared out the spider web of fractures as more trees blurred by too fast to separate.  His fingertips tapped along the gouge marks in the arm rest inaudibly.  He was calm.  The ache in every muscle was manageable.  Every instinct was screaming against getting further and further from his mate but Derek had to deal with it.  It wasn't going to get any better.  This was the way things were.  It was nearly comforting not having a choice in the matter.  Much as he'd had as they drove away, when his wolf had started tearing to the surface.  
            "Derek, I'm going to knock you out," Peter had said it very simply, one hand resting almost casually on the steering wheel.  A growl had ripped out in response and Peter punched Derek's head into the window.  It'd have to be replaced.  He didn't care.    
            "We can stop for a bit," Peter offered now, "stretch your legs a bit maybe get some air."  Derek shook his head.    
            "I'd probably make a run for it," he admitted, doubting Peter would hold it against him.    
            "It's not the end of the world," Peter told him.  Derek scowled.  Peter was silent a long moment before, "Are you excited to see everyone?"  Derek's stomach curled.  
            "I wouldn't use those words no."    
            "I think everyone will be pleasantly surprised."    
            "You say that as if they don't know I'm coming," Derek let out, pads of his fingers pressing the gouges.    
            "They don't," Peter returned easily.  Derek took a breath, tried to take another.    
            "They don't know I'm coming," he repeated.  
            "They don't even know I left to find you," Peter told him, looking to him for the first time since the conversation had started.    
            "But what if they're not ready to see me?" Derek challenged.    
            "Derek how many times must I tell you no one blames you for Laura's death?"  Derek didn't answer, gritting his teeth and trying to quell the rage swelling in his veins.  It was quickly misdirecting itself towards Peter.  _He dragged you away_ it breathed _away from your mate.  Away from_ him _and for what?  You don't even know if they'll take you back…_ Derek swallowed around a lump and forced himself to breathe.  Peter had hardly dragged him away.  He'd been willing to leave; part of him even wanted it. 

"We grieved," Peter said, reminding Derek of his presence.  "We tried to let you grieve.  I told you already we thought you would come back.  Derek you are part of us.  We love you.  We will alwayslove you.  You will alwaysbelong with us."  Derek shook his head a few times.    
            "I'm scared," he admitted finally.  And it was hard, so hard, to let those two little words out.    
            "Scared of what?"  Derek shrugged minutely.  
            "Scared they'll be mad, scared they won't be.  And I'm scared that leaving him was the wrong decision.  Scared that I love him, scared of not loving him."  He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that thoughts of Stiles fused so seamlessly with thoughts of his family.  They were not entirely separate entities.  Peter was quiet again.  
            "If you want me to take you back I will," he said finally.    
            "No," Derek denied, almost immediately.  "I'm no good for him and he should have a normal life."    
            "Do you want to stop for the night or keep going?" Peter asked then.  Derek was glad he didn't push it, well aware the only reason he didn’t was because he was getting what he wanted.  But it worked out for everyone.  Everyone's best interests.  He could tell himself that at least. 

Between the two of them they made the drive just over eighteen hours.  Derek slept the last leg of it, Peter waking him with a gentle, "Look alive."  Derek blinked rapidly, struggling with a yawn as he stretched.  His stomach was suddenly twisting and turning in knots.  It felt so weird, being back.  He could already see the house about two miles in the distance.  They were swallowed up by trees and Derek inched his window down, frowning when it groaned in protest.  The air here was so sweet.  His third favorite smell, maybe fourth.  He thought he'd know by the end of the day.  "Emily and I live a few miles north," Peter offered conversationally.  Derek nodded to show he was listening, inhaling slowly and wishing he could taste the air.  His stomach tightened further as Peter began to decelerate, rolling his window down too.  The front door opened and Derek's heart seized in his chest as his father stepped out, one hand shading his eyes.  His jaw dropped open after another second and he gaped at their continued approach.  Derek found himself sitting up straighter, hand moving to the door handle, ready to yank it open.  "Let me park the car first," Peter said airily.  Derek didn't take his eyes off his father, couldn't really.    
            "Beth," his father called hoarsely, leaving the door open behind him.  Derek imagined that his mother responded but his ears were ringing as Peter finally parked and he shoved the door open, climbing out on stiff legs.  They stopped at the same moment, eyes still locked as seconds dragged by.    
            "What is it?" his mother was questioning, filling the doorway.  She was still watching the plate she was drying and Derek's heart was beating so hard it hurt.  There still wasn't an answer for her so she glanced up, plate crashing to the porch as her mouth rounded in shock.  "Oh my god," she let out.    
            "Derek," his father exhaled, as if he wasn't sure Derek was really there in front of him.  Derek's lips nearly smiled but they couldn't quite manage it.    
            "Dad."  His father closed nearly all the distance between them the next second.  Derek stayed as he was, still unsure what his reaction would be.  They stood eye to eye now and Derek didn't know what to make of it.    
            "Son," his father corrected and Derek did smile then, just barely.  He was crushed in a hug and Derek sagged into the contact, eyes squeezing shut as he wrapped his arms around his father.

The smell of his father slid neatly into his place as his second favorite smell and Derek buried his face in his father's shoulder breathing in as deeply as he could.  He was lifted off his feet for a few short moments and Derek felt all of six years old again.  His mom was worming in between them the second his feet were back on the ground.  
            "Oh god let me see him," she was saying, her voice doing that thick tremble when she was trying not to cry.  "Let me see him," she tugged Derek's chin down, eyes shining with tears as they moved over his face again and again.  "Oh my god baby you're home," she kissed his cheek hard; wrapping him in a hug so tight she was practically climbing him.  Derek 's throat closed over and he didn't even care that at the moment he couldn't breathe.    
            "Mom," he barely managed on a whisper.  She laughed in his ear, giving him a squeeze that threatened to crack some ribs.  Derek just squeezed her right back, lighter of course.  His father squeezed his shoulder briefly before moving away.  
            "Peter," he greeted, "it's good to see you too."  There was amusement in his voice and Derek smiled as his father and uncle embraced.    
            "You're so big," his mother exhaled, pulling back to look up at him again.  Ridiculously enough Derek felt like blushing at the comment.    
            "Yeah I guess," he muttered.  Tears leaked out as his mother grinned at him.    
            "Derek!" Aaron yelled, interrupting them.    
            "Wait your turn," his mother scolded, unheeded as Aaron tackled them both.  He scurried between them the next moment, sitting on Derek's chest and pointedly ignoring his mother's glare as she stood and brushed herself off.    
            "Long time no see big brother," Aaron grinned down at him.  Derek rolled his eyes quickly.    
            "And you're exactly the same as when I left," he teased gently, ruffling Aaron's hair.  Aaron scoffed before preening.    
            "I am much more handsome thank you very much." 

By the time Derek had pushed Aaron off and regained his feet, with a hand up from his father, Curtis and Amelia had joined them.    
            "You're still here," Derek told Curtis, a bit surprised.  One shoulder lifted and dropped.  
            "Yeah," he said simply.    
            "He can't get Grace tied down," Aaron revealed.  " _Still_."  Curtis scowled at Aaron, reaching out to smack him which Aaron dodged easily.  Curtis stepped forward then and offered his hand before yanking Derek into another hug.    
            "It's good to see you Derek," he breathed quietly.  Derek could tell he meant it and his shoulders sagged just a bit further.    
            "Good to see you too.  Sorry about Grace."  Curtis laughed quickly.  
            "She'll come around.  I'm not in a hurry."  Derek forced himself not to think about Stiles.  Amelia shoving Curtis out of the way was a relief.  He really looked at her for the first time and she stole his breath.           
            "I know," she said quietly, tucking hair behind her ear and taking another moment to adjust her tank top, "I look just like her."  Derek swallowed, feeling himself nod.  
            "You're so beautiful Amelia."  She smiled a bit before finally pulling him in for a hug and Derek lifted her easily, turning in a quick half circle before setting her down again.    
            "You too Derek.  I'm glad you're back."  She bit her lip and Derek would have been apprehensive if he wasn't so stupidly glad that she still did that when she was nervous.  At least some things hadn't changed while he'd been gone.  "You're back for good right?" 

Absolute silence fell around them and Derek tensed once again.    
            "You don't have to make any decisions now," his mother cut in.  "We're just so glad to see you.  So glad," she sighed, arms wrapping around his waist from behind.  "We missed you," she breathed into his shoulder before kissing it.  Derek relaxed again.  This didn't have to be permanent.  But it could be.  He didn't know yet.  For now he was home.  That was what mattered.    
            "So you're back," Will spoke quietly from the porch, arms crossed as he leaned against the railing.  Derek nodded once.  They watched each other for several long moments before Will turned and went back into the house.  His mother gave him another squeeze.  
            "He missed you too," she offered gently.  Derek nodded again.  He couldn't have expected his return to go any better.    
            "I'm going to see my girls," Peter said, "we'll come back for dinner?"    
            "We'll see you then," his father replied, hugging him again quickly.  Derek's mother moved to hug Peter as well, kissing his cheek.    
            "Come inside," his father said, arm looping over Derek's shoulders.  "We have so much to talk about."

 It was just past four in the morning and Derek was in the kitchen drinking a beer with his parents.  They were scattered around the old dining room table that also still looked the same it always had.  It was weird drinking with his parents but yeah…this was good.  Curtis was out.  Amelia had gone home with Peter, Emily, and Annabelle for a sleepover.  Aaron had disappeared about an hour ago and Will was seated on the steps, probably listening to them.  Derek didn't comment.  Neither did his parents.  They'd all been talking for hours and Derek was surprised at how easy it was.  But then again he supposed you didn't run out of things to talk about when you hadn't seen each other in years.  Now it was quiet and Derek found himself reveling in the comfort of it.  His mother laid a hand over his, smiling softly at him.    
            "You smell of another," she murmured, "you smell quite a bit of another."  Derek felt his face heat as his stomach twisted brutally.  He couldn't smell Stiles on him, not smothered by his family as he was, but it was comforting in an odd way to know his scent was still there.    
            "I took a mate," he admitted very quietly.  His father choked on his beer, coughing quickly.    
            "A mate?" his mother echoed, tone matching his father's expression.  "That's…wonderful uh.  Yes.  Wonderful.  Where…is she?"  Derek could practically feel as his face closed off centimeter by centimeter.   
            "It didn't work out," he admitted even quieter.    
            "Oh well that's all that needs said I suppose," his mother exhaled.  "Unless you…want to…?"  Derek looked down to his beer, fingertips peeling at the label.    
            "I don't think I can."  His mother squeezed his hand again and he inhaled slowly around the sudden pinch in his chest. 

It wasn't much later that Derek was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.  He couldn't sleep.  The bed was soft and big, nothing wrong with it.  It smelled good but not _right_.  It was too big.  Too empty.  How did he used to sleep alone?  He used to every night.  He remembers doing it.  But it's as if only his brain does.  His body nearly aches with the alien sensation of it.  With a long sigh he finally gave up lying still and climbed out of bed, crossing to his bag.  He had the zipper open, hand searching when he froze.  The footsteps in the hall froze too.  Derek knew, just _knew_ , that it was Will.  He moved to the door, feet skipping over the squeaky boards automatically.  Will's arms were crossed tightly across his chest, eyes shining wet.  He uncrossed his arms and swiped at his eyes.    
            "You can't leave again.  You c-can't."  Derek yanked his baby brother into a tight hug.  
            "I'm sorry," he whispered to him.  "I'm sorry Will."    
            "Can I stay with you a bit?" Will mumbled into his shoulder.  Derek smiled softly.  
            "Get in here."  It was such a relief to curl up with Will just like they used to.  It made parts of him ache with the thought of Stiles but at the same time just to have a body close to his felt like it might be enough.    
            "You really had a mate?" Will questioned softly.  Derek's heart slapped into his chest.  
            "Yes," he said when he could speak again.    
            "What were they like?"  Derek wanted to smile so he did.  Leave it to Will to figure it out.    
            "He's amazing."    
            "Tell me," Will said.  It was enough of a question and Derek knew he didn't have to.  Still.  This was Will.  He sort of owed him whatever he wanted.

"What's a Stiles?" Will questioned moments later, smiling loosely.  Derek returned the smile and god he missed this.  He missed Will.  He missed sharing secrets.  He missed feeling young.  He hopped out of bed and went back to his bag, opening the side pocket.  
            "This is a Stiles," Derek told him, handing over the thin stack of pictures.  Will flipped through them slowly.  Two were of he and Stiles in Seattle, one serious and one goofy.  Stiles had been _delighted_ that Derek had never taken a goofy picture.  One was of Stiles sleeping in his car.  Three were of Stiles asleep in bed; they'd been the last pictures on the camera.    
            "You look good together," Will said absently.  Derek fought the urge to blush.    
            "He drives me crazy."    
            "Yeah I can tell," Will teased, offering the pictures.    
            "He's human," Derek sighed softly, flipping through the pictures slowly.  Will was quiet a long moment.    
            "Oh," he exhaled.  "But did he love you too?"  Derek stopped and folded the pictures to his chest.  He noted Will never asked if Derek loved him.  He must still know him that well.  Another time, another thought, Derek might have smiled.    
            "Yeah.  I think he did."  
            "Oh," Will repeated.  Derek fell asleep with Will beside him, feet tangling for space at the end of the bed and pictures still curled to his chest. 

They were woken rudely the next morning when Amelia crashed through the door, jumping on the bed.  Her elbow landed solidly in Derek's stomach, knocking the still asleep breath from his lungs.    
            "Jesus Amelia!" Will complained, shoving at her.  It only succeeded in pushing Derek off the bed as she ducked it easily.  Derek thumped to the floor, waking suddenly at the feel of smooth paper under his fingertips.  Amelia was giggling as he shot up, eyes racing over himself and the floor in an effort to gather all the white rectangles.  He smoothed down a bent corner and forced himself to breathe.  Everything was fine.    
            "Who's this?" Amelia questioned, showing Derek the photo of Stiles and him at the Space Needle.  Derek shoved to his feet and snatched it from her with his free hand, crossing to his bag in the next second.    
            "He's a friend," he returned as soon as they were safely zipped back in his bag.  Amelia was pouting when he turned back around.    
            "I will always know when you're lying big brother."    
            "Would you like a gold star," Derek muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.  Amelia's pout twisted to a frown.  
            "Fine," she huffed, flipping her hair quickly, "breakfast is ready just so you know.  Hope you don't choke on it."  He snapped his teeth and Amelia grinned suddenly, bounding off the bed to hug him.  "I missed you," she breathed into his chest, squeezing him harder.  Derek's arms wound around her as he buried his nose in her hair.    
            "Me too."  Will threw a pillow at them, earning a quick growl from Amelia.    
            "I'm eating your bacon," she declared, slipping from Derek's hold.  Will's eyebrows shot up.  
            "You are not!"  Amelia rushed out of the room with another laugh.  Will was hot on her heels and Derek wondered if they would manage to eat all the bacon before he got there.  He was guessing not.

By the time Derek made it to the table everyone was already eating, Will and Amelia shoving strips of bacon into their mouths as they continued arguing.  Derek couldn't help but chuckle as he dropped into the chair he always used to occupy, eyeing the empty plate that still smelled like bacon.  He couldn't bring himself to mind.  Instead he dug into the scrambled eggs and grabbed some toast, shooting Aaron a quick smile when he poured orange juice for him.  Amelia passed the jam before he'd said anything and Derek had to pause as his chest warmed and then pinched in rapid succession.  He'd never stopped to fully admit to himself how much he'd missed being home.  _Home_.  His mother slipped from her chair on his left and Derek forced himself back into motion, freezing again when she set a plate of bacon next to his plate.  She smiled at his shocked gaze, dropping to kiss his hair before returning to her seat.    
            "You think I'd let you go without bacon your first breakfast back?" she teased quickly.  Derek smiled at her so hard his cheeks ached with the effort of it.    
            "I missed you," he told her, emotion saturating the words.    
            "Me too."  She touched her eyes quickly before picking up her fork again.  Derek scraped most of the bacon onto his plate before passing some to Will, who stopped arguing with Amelia abruptly and grinned.  Derek had to stab Amelia's hand to protect the rest of the bacon but they were both smiling as he did. 

            "We're going to have a meet tonight," his father told him as he helped Curtis with the dishes.  He paused significantly, mouth twisting bitterly for just a moment.  "Will you come?"  Derek was so shocked by the question the cup he was drying dropped from his hands, Curtis shooting him a look as his hand snatched it from a freefall.    
            "Yes," he forced out, "of course."  His father was visibly relieved; smiling so fast it was gone by the time Derek had blinked.    
            "Good.  I'll go spread the word."  Derek went back to the dishes slowly, eyes gazing out the kitchen window, noting Will and Aaron headed across the field and towards the woods blankly.    
            "The pack's been expanding," Curtis told him.  "He probably won't be back before lunch."    
            "Wow," Derek returned.  He'd forgotten about this.  His father was very involved with their pack.  He visited everyone once a week at least.  Derek's chest hurt again.  He leaned against the counter and for a moment even struggled to breathe.  Growing up it hadn't been a huge deal, their pack had hardly been a handful of families.  But they'd been growing, apparently at a steady rate.    
            "It's almost scary," Curtis said then, "how strong we are now."    
            "I'm not ready," Derek told him honestly.  He knew that tone.  Curtis was about to launch into something he knew Derek didn't want to talk about.  Curtis blinked at him a few times, face blank.    
            "Alright," he agreed finally. 

Derek tossed his towel to the counter before all but fleeing the kitchen.  He ended up back in his room, staring at the bag he'd brought with him.  He crossed to it slowly, hand hesitating over the zipper before opening it.  The dresser drawers filled slowly, pictures carefully tucked under his socks.  He didn't have many clothes anymore and the dresser wasn't half full before he was staring down into the last item in the bag.  The house was nearly silent and Derek tried to focus on that as his shaking hands reached down.  He could already smell it and his mouth began to water.  His chest ached again and Derek wrestled with the pain.  Part of him wondered if Stiles would notice the shirt missing.  It hadn't been enough of a worry to stop him, especially with how many shirts Stiles had lost to Derek's claws.  Derek wondered when he'd become such a masochist as his hands brought the fabric to his nose as if there was no other option.  Even inhaling slowly he wasn't prepared for it.  Pain spread through him, numbing every inch it crossed with the sheer intensity of it.  Derek sank down slowly, still breathing Stiles in.  His wolf writhed with want and his hands clutched at the fabric.  He could feel the change coming over him and he didn't stop it, he didn't want to stop it.  His family would just have to understand the scratch marks raked into the floor.       

 

…

 

 

Stiles stretched his legs slowly.  He gave the pictures in his hand one last glance before sitting up and sliding them back into the envelope.  It still physically ached like a hole punched through his chest.  But it was better.  It'd been four days since Derek left.  Stiles still couldn't quite kill the hope that he would come back.  Somehow.  He had the feeling that hope would be with him for a long, long time.  But that was okay, he guessed.  It was…bearable.  He could easily remind himself that it could be worse because it had been worse.  There was Derek actually leaving.  Then there were the cruel moments between doses.  At least he didn't still want to be drugged.  But for a while it had been so easy to just lay back, close his eyes, and shut everything down.  Drugs were good he'd decided.  But the offer only extended until the month was over.  The last thing Stiles needed was to be strung out and have to deal with the repercussions going home would bring him.  So he sucked it up, sort of, and spent the first day off drugs in bed crying.  He'd probably ruined a pillow just with the amount of snot he'd produced.  At least he didn't have to worry about being quiet.  Everyone in the building heard him anyways. 

He couldn't go back to Derek's house.  Not without him.  So the infirmary had become his temporary home.  Stiles did a lot of pacing.  He also did a lot of sitting.  He tried to come up with any sort of story that might even be plausible.  Hands digging into his scalp he'd wondered how far his dad was going to push this.  Stiles highly doubted he'd just welcome Stiles back with open arms and lay it all down to rest.  He'd want answers.  He'd want someone to hold responsible.  Hell he'd want someone to slap the handcuffs on and escort down the center of Main Street himself.  If the situation was different Stiles would probably want the same.  For just a moment he pictured his father walking Derek down the street in handcuffs.  The brief image ended when he saw himself latching his lips to Derek's and refusing to let his dad yank him off.  He couldn't stop a wistful sigh, sagging back onto his bed.  There was a quick rap on the door, Stiles was again glad he'd gotten his own room, they must feel _really_ bad for him-but then again how much does an infirmary for werewolves even get used?-and Aiden poked his head in.  
            "Feeling up to a chat?" he questioned.  Stiles forced his lips to curl before nodding.  
            "Yeah."

            "How you feeling today?" Aiden questioned and Stiles mustered another smile for him.  
            "I'm better."  There.  It wasn't even a lie.  Stiles had learned not to say _I'm okay_ or even _I'm fine_.  At this point, those still were lies.  Stiles didn't think he'd know what to do returning to humanity where not everyone could tell when he was lying.  He didn't think he'd know what to do at all.    
            "Thinking about going home?" Aiden asked next and this caught Stiles off guard.  There was still roughly a week left in the three month period.  Just a smattering of days for his strained bond with Derek to live.  He wondered if the death would be quick or slow.  If it would just turn off or if it would shadow him for months to come.    
            "Not really no."  He paused awkwardly, fingers curling and uncurling as he bit at his lip.  "Should I be?"    
            "Well," Aiden exhaled, scarily like Ross, "here's the thing."  He crossed the small room and grabbed the chair by the window before hauling it back to the bed and sinking into it.  He took a moment to cross his legs and fold his hands carefully over his knees.  Stiles wondered why Aiden was taking on more of his father's responsibilities.  When had that happened?  Because this was a discussion he and Ross would have had.  He could feel it.  "When you return home," he smiled around the words and Stiles nearly shivered because _damn_ why had he never noticed the similarities before now?  "Your story is going to draw some attention," Aiden continued, unfazed by Stiles' internal dialogue, even though it was visible on his face.  "Somewhat unavoidable really I mean you went missing and you'll return home safe and sound it's the happy type of stuff everyone likes to hear.  But if you're gone for three months, or just over three months it's…riskier."  Stiles arched an eyebrow.  "Which is not to say it's dangerous.  Not at all.  It's simply well riskier."    
            "So you said," Stiles pointed out dryly.  Aiden was silent a beat and Stiles being Stiles his mouth went ahead and filled it.  "Your Rossness is really creeping me out just by the way."    
            "My Rossness?" Aiden prompted, lips flickering over a smile.    
            "It's like he's using you as a meat puppet." 

Aiden glanced to his laced fingers, shoulders sagging after another moment.  His hands went to the arm rests and he uncrossed his legs, relaxing into the chair.  Stiles couldn't help but relax too.  Now he was just Aiden.    
            "He would have come himself but he…doesn't feel well," Aiden began haltingly; "he blames himself for how things happened."  Stiles frowned at that.    
            "Why?  It's not like he made Derek claim me.  He didn't make me fall in love with him either."  Stiles' chest burned admitting it out loud and he forced a deep breath, trying to relax again.    
            "Derek was pack," Aiden said in response, brow furrowing.  He paused a moment and shook his head before clearing his expression.  "You are pack-for now.  It's my father's responsibility to take care of you."    
            "I don't understand," Stiles admitted.  "Ross has a huge pack.  Why is he so affected by this?  You guys have to have stuff sort of like this happen all the time."    
            "Stuff like this?"    
            "Well yeah.  Humans leaving.  Going home."  
            "No," Aiden said, "not after being claimed."  Stiles blinked at him.  He could feel himself gaping.    
            "How is that…possible?"    
            "Bringing humans in is a relatively new development for our pack.  Really new actually.  Within the last decade."  Stiles nodded because that made sense.  It wasn't like they could track people online before then.  His body gave a quick spasm at the residual creepy factor.  "Humans being claimed hasn't worked as well as we'd hoped.  Usually only one was claimed, if any at all.  Three being claimed on the last run was our highest number."    
            "Huh," Stiles let out.    
            "Until now they've made the decision to stay."  Stiles bristled somewhat at the statement, though he was sure Aiden hadn't meant any offense.  "Been able to stay…you get what I'm saying."  Stiles nodded again.       
            "So I'm the first person to leave the settlement after staying more than a few days."  Stiles honestly wasn't sure whether he was saying it to Aiden or himself.    
            "If you're not counting Derek," Aiden murmured.  Stiles huffed out something like a laugh.    
            "Well isn't that ironic." 

"So how many humans are here?"  
            "Eleven.  For now."    
            "Oh."  Stiles supposed he shouldn't really be surprised.  It wasn't like he had any way to tell the difference between humans and werewolves while werewolves were playing humans.    
            "You guys should have like some sort of integration program or like…a humans mixer."  He was going over his first few days here in his head.  Remembering how alone he'd felt.  How off balance he'd been.    
            "Mm," Aiden allowed, barely, "mates can get a bit territorial."    
            "Oh right."  Stiles remembered Shane's sweatshirt then.  "It's weird though.  As long as I was here I hardly know anything about you guys."    
            "Half precaution, half Derek being incredibly antisocial."    
            "Hey," Stiles was saying before he could stop himself, "he tried."  Aiden held up a hand in defense.  
            "Didn't say he didn't."  Stiles' cheeks heated slightly and he looked away.  "Speaking of precaution, we should get back on topic."  Stiles looked back to him warily, expecting the return of Ross 2.0.  "You'll be asked questions when you get home," Aiden said.  "You'll need a story to tell." 

They'd been going back and forth for about twenty minutes when Aiden leaned back with a huff of breath.  His fingers tugged at his collar and he fanned his face quickly.  "Okay so," he paused at Stiles' look.  "What?"    
            "Are you alright?"  Aiden squinted at him, as if he was missing something obvious.  Stiles took a moment because maybe he was missing something obvious.  Yeah…he was.  Aiden was sweating.  It was like an all over glisten on his face and throat and Stiles wondered how the hell he'd missed it.  "You're not sick are you?"  Stiles winced as he asked it.  Did werewolves get sick?  Aiden smiled at him before running a quick hand through his hair.  
            "Dude it's like ninety degrees in here."  Stiles glanced down to himself which was sort of ridiculous because his body was not a thermometer.    
            "Wait really?"  He felt fine.  He even did a quick check for sweat.  Nothing.    
            "Your body temperature has dropped significantly Stiles."  Stiles winced just a little at the way it was said.  Like he was breaking it to him gently.    
            "I hadn't noticed," he muttered, trying not to sound petulant.    
            "Well you wouldn't."  Stiles supposed it was supposed to be a comforting tone.  He wasn't comforted.    
            "Okay so you're not sick I am.  Good to know."    
            "You're not sick your body's adapting to a change."  Stiles didn't bother not glowering because _like he needed reminded seriously_.  It was plain in his face because Aiden cleared his throat, loudly, before looking away.  "Anyways I think I hear the lunch cart.  We can continue this later?"  Stiles nodded before scratching at his head just to give himself something to do.  
            "Not like I'm going anywhere."  Aiden still had a long way to go before he was on Ross' level.  Stiles couldn't decide if it was a good thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is me realizing in real time that most of you probably aren't in my time zone  
> and therefor won't actually know when I'm late  
> ....  
> what a knee slapper that is
> 
> anyways.
> 
> I really just really hope you guys like the Hales. I really do. I feel like it's my child's first day of school and I'm scared the older kids are going to beat them up on the playground.   
> omg pls don't beat my children.
> 
> I don't know what's wrong with me right now.   
> (that's a lie it's actually Dylan O'Brien)
> 
> I'm stopping.
> 
> Two final things.  
> Do you guys mind the half and half chapters or do you want me to navigate back to one character per chapter?
> 
> And thank you so much! I still cannot believe all the love and support this fic has gotten!   
> Wouldn't be here without all of you.  
> So thank you.


	21. I Took One Straight Through the Heart

He didn't feel better after a shower.  Not exactly.  But Stiles' shirt was safely tucked away and he was resolutely not thinking about it.  The last thing he needed was everyone picking up on Stiles' scent draped across his skin anyways.  It was one thing for his parents and Will to know.  He didn't need the entire pack, a lot of wolves he'd never even met, knowing too.  He was pulling on a shirt when his door creaked open and Derek turned quickly, shocked to see Annabelle standing there.  She smiled at him toothily stepping into the room and pulling herself onto the unmade bed.  
            "You snuck up on me," Derek accused softly.    
            "You let me," she said, smile never decreasing.    
            "I was thinking," he finished pulling his shirt down and crossed to sit next to her.  "Why are you alone?" he asked as he realized the house was silent around them.    
            "I told Mama I was going," she returned easily.    
            "You came by yourself?" Derek demanded, chest clenching up.  She laughed.  
            "Of course I did.  It's only seven miles Derek."  Derek couldn't even think of a response.  She was so carefree about it.  About traveling seven miles of wilderness _alone_.  Annabelle listened to his escalating heart rate attentively, smile finally falling.  She took one of his hands in both of hers.  "I know something bad happened when you were young," she told him.  "But something like that can't happen anymore.  Things are different now."    
            "How do you know?"    
            "Because my daddy told me."  Derek wasn't relieved by this.    
            "Annabelle you always need to be careful.  Always.  Even when you don't think you do.  Okay?"  She smiled softly and Derek could tell she was only humoring him.    
            "Okay Derek I will."    
            "What are you doing here anyways?" he questioned eager for something else to think about.    
            "I was going to ask if you wanted to go for a run," she said hesitantly.  "Before tonight." 

He hesitated and Annabelle really was too smart for her own good.  "I'm going anyways.  I just thought I'd be polite."  Derek sighed at her.  He really didn't know when she'd gotten so clever, especially when she was spoiled rotten by everyone in her vicinity.    
            "When you put it like that I don't suppose I have much choice."  She smiled at him again.  
            "Good.  We'll see if you can keep up."  She was off the bed without another word and Derek barely heard her leap down the steps.  With a growl that was only part irritation he followed, jumping right over the railing and narrowly missing a lamp.  The front door was still open in Annabelle's wake and Derek stayed on all fours to shoot out as well, forcing it open with his shoulder when he didn't fit.  He cleared the stairs easily and his chest swelled as he dragged in a deep, sweet inhale.  Annabelle was still close and he'd catch up with her easily so Derek took a few moments just to stretch his limbs comfortably, still enjoying the pure air. 

Derek had never felt much for cities, he'd spent more than enough time them, but there was no better air than there was here in Maine.  At least if there was he hadn't found it and he severely doubted it existed anyways.  But he supposed he'd always have his heart set here.  It was where he grew up and all his memories of Laura were attached to it.  She'd also died here and Derek felt a pinch in his chest as he thought about it.  He was fairly sure he could still go to the place where it had happened.  He wondered if he'd smell her blood if he did.  Hear her scream again.  Be pinned down by the same helpless feeling from all those years before.  Dread thickened in his stomach as he realized that if he was going to stay here, part of him wanted to, he'd have to go back.  He would have to try and accept it.  Derek shook his head, heels digging in as he pushed harder.  He didn't want to think about it.  He could face down those demons later.  Right now he needed to keep an eye on Annabelle anyways.  That thought firmly in mind he let his fingers rake through the dirt, launching himself through the air.  Annabelle growled as he tackled her and rolled them, one arm wrapped carefully around her ribs.  He dragged his tongue along her cheek, crossing his eyes for a moment.  Annabelle snarled at him, eyes glowing and even tiny fangs dropping down.  Derek nearly gasped, surprised by her petite ferocity.  Her foot landed solidly, very close to his crotch, Derek took the hint and let her go.  She howled a quick victory and Derek gave chase again, wondering why no one had warned him about her.  Vicious little angel. 

They had traveled nearly thirty miles before Annabelle stopped, plopping down in some grass and brushing wild curls from her face.    
            "We're nearly to the border," she explained quietly.    
            "What border?"  She shot him a strange glance and he scooted closer before plucking a twig from her hair.    
            " _Our_ border what do you think Derek?"    
            "What do you mean our border?"  Derek tugged her closer, lifting her quickly by the hips and dropping her right in front of him.  He settled in to pull more foliage from her hair, smacking the backs of her hands when she tried to scratch him.    
            "The border where our territory ends.  Duuuuuuuh."    
            "We're still on Hale land?"  She twisted around enough to stare at him with an expression he immediately associated with Stiles.    
            " _Yes_.  It's not exactly the safest outside."  Derek was still trying to push thoughts of Stiles away so he went back to her hair silently.  Annabelle looked more like a wild child raised by wolves than anyone had a right to.  Ever.  "You have so much to learn Derek," Annabelle sniffed, tone superior.  Derek simply rolled his eyes, choosing this time not to answer.  He made a mental note to try and keep her with her mom.  She was much tamer.  But then again maybe he just needed to win her over.  He could hope.    
            "Well you two are pretty far out," a voice called.  Derek whipped to see a man making his way towards them, shirt hanging from the waistband of his jeans.  His skin was shimmering with sweat in the sun and Derek all but bared his teeth as he approached them.    
            "I wanted to prove something," Annabelle said, sounding awfully proud of herself.  She huffed and pouted when Derek didn't release her.  The other werewolf seemed to take the hint, stopping his progress and smiling.  
            "I'm Landon, resident guard dog.  One of them anyways."  Derek felt his eyebrows move up.  
            "Guard dog?"  Landon's lips twitched, a smile blossoming as Annabelle sunk her teeth into Derek's wrist and burst from his grasp.    
            "Not that this little one needs it," he said, catching her easily and swinging her up.    
            "I tried to tell Derek that," she giggled, scrambling up and settling on his shoulders. 

Derek pushed to his feet slowly, brushing himself off.  Landon examined him a moment before sticking out his hand.  His hand hovered between them, pink palm tilted up just slightly.    
            "I know what you're thinking," he offered as Derek caught his hand, "I didn't grow up like this either."    
            "Is it really safe?" Derek questioned.  Annabelle rolled her eyes.    
            "We work hard to keep it that way," Landon told him, tickling the sole of Annabelle's foot and narrowly missing a kick to the jaw.  "At any given time there's four of us patrolling the perimeter."    
            "And what do you do if someone crosses it?"    
            "Observation first.  Always observation.  If we see them more than once and don't know who they are…we find out."  Derek didn't ask what he meant.  There was no need to.  He wondered how often it stopped at _finding out_ and how often it didn't.  "We don't have much trouble," Landon added calmly.  "Most hunters operate under a code.  Those that don't…"  Derek had a feeling they didn't really need to censor the conversation for Annabelle but he appreciated it nonetheless.  "The hunters you have experience with are few and far between.  Once they check out that we're not hurting anyone they move on.  And from what I hear your hunters…well they got theirs.  Slowly," he added significantly.  Derek bared his teeth, unable to stop it and barely able to catch the growl.  "Your family can tell you more about it," he said after a long, quiet moment, "I just thought you should know that we know what happened.  And we are all committed to it _never happening again_."  His eyes flashed and the tension seeped from Derek's frame suddenly.  He only wondered for a moment who Landon had lost.  It wasn't his place to ask.  Annabelle was rubbing her hands over the hair that Landon barely had.    
            "Come on mush, I need a bath before the meeting tonight."  Landon's eyes dimmed and he smiled up at her.  
            "You've been watching _Balto_ again haven't you?" he asked dryly.    
            "No," she laughed, rubbing his hair again. 

Derek and Landon got lemonade and fresh cookies for the chore of bringing Annabelle home.  She was sent straight for a bath and after a few moments Emily joined them on the porch.    
            "Is she being rough on you?" she questioned lightly, brushing a hand through Derek's hair.  Twigs clattered to the porch and he fought the urge to blush.    
            "I think I have to say yes," he sighed.    
            "She's just jealous," Emily offered sagely, "you're getting a lot of attention.  Probably only going to get more for a few weeks."  Derek winced and Emily laughed.  "It's probably good for her.  You can only be the baby of the pack for so long."    
            "Shhhhh," Landon let out, shaking his head and biting into another cookie.  "She'll run out here buck naked and push his face in the dirt you keep talking like that."  Emily laughed again and Derek found himself smiling too.  He could picture Annabelle doing it too so he wasn't even sure why he was amused.  He probably shouldn't be.                
            "She has her father's spirit," Emily admitted.  
            "And your charm," Peter called from the driveway.  Emily rolled her eyes, frighteningly like Annabelle.  She pushed her chair back and crossed the porch, meeting Peter on the steps and kissing his cheek.  Landon shifted to tug his shirt on, the thin cotton sticking in several places.  Derek spiked a brow but chose to say nothing.  Peter had always been territorial.

"Derek, good to see you out and about.  How are you feeling?"  Derek shrugged.  
            "Just trying to adjust."              
            "Yes we're a bit more…tense than your Washington pack."    
            "I don't know about that.  There's no fence here."  Peter's lips pursed briefly.  
            "I suppose you're right.  But everything will come in time.  Tonight is for celebration."    
            "Papa!" Annabelle yelled, hurtling out of the house and right into his arms, water spraying out in her wake.                
            "Belle," Peter returned, scooping her up and touching a finger to her nose.  "You look magnificent," he told her, touching their foreheads and smoothing the pink of her dress.    
            "She'll look better once her hair is braided," Emily countered, pulling Annabelle from Peter's arms.  "You could use a bath too.  And a shave."    
            "Whatever would I do without you," Peter sighed.  Emily patted his chest with her free hand before turning and disappearing inside the house.  "I suppose I'll see you two tonight then."

Derek was surprised to find himself sticking close to Landon through most of the meeting.  His family gave him a pretty wide berth, understanding that other members of the pack needed time to scent him and in most cases _meet_ him.  But Derek felt a connection with Landon.  He couldn't fully understand it but he certainly wasn't going to ignore it.  Landon's mate, Eden, had a quiet strength to her.  She was all kind smiles meeting Derek and didn't seem to mind that he more or less trailed after them for the evening.  He didn't handle being the center of attention well.  At least it was less pack meet and more pack party.  There were a few small fires going, enough food to feed the entire county, and even music playing quietly somewhere.  It was good.  It felt like home.  Not that Derek was used to pack meetings like this.  It was similar to Ross' pack but he never made a habit of going to those and he wasn't used to his pack being so _large_.  He wondered if expanding and taking care of all these people had been his father's, perhaps his family's, catharsis.   
            "I've been waiting to get you alone!" Grace launched herself at him, arms tangling around his neck.  Derek stayed firm; if he stumbled she'd be letting him hear about it forever.  
            "We're hardly alone," he pointed out with half a smile.  
            "Yes well if we were _actually_ alone your brother would get all jealous and try to drag me off somewhere by my hair."    
            "He would never do that."  
            "Yeah," Grace sighed, flipping some hair over her shoulder, "you're right."    
            "He can be pretty vicious though, you might be surprised."    
            "I grew up with him remember?"    
            "Yeah but you missed most of him growing up."  An awkward moment passed before, "Just saying." 

Derek didn't know what to say.  He didn't know how to push the conversation from where it was to somewhere that was actually pleasant.  "But when you left I was still in my Little House on the Prairie braids and Curt couldn't go a day without pulling some sort of immature prank."  Derek's lips twitched.  He couldn't help it.  He still didn't know how Curtis had managed to steal her entire underwear drawer and string every piece of it from trees throughout a six mile radius.  Well he'd helped with the stringing.  It was the stealing he didn't understand.  Grace smacked his shoulder, hard, and Derek thought she was thinking about the same thing he was.  "I really thought my father was going to kill him," she allowed.  "Though why he stopped _me_ from doing it I'm really not sure."    
            "You weren't exactly as kind as you could have been," Derek reminded her.  "Still aren't from what I hear."    
            "What I owe him sex because he's not cutting off random clumps of my fur every full moon these days?"    
            "Hey don't try and turn this around on me," Derek said quickly, holding up a palm.  "You know what I mean.  He's never had eyes for anybody else and you've never enjoyed torturing anybody else."  Her lips curled barely.  
            "Aren't you supposed to be on his side?"    
            "Nobody's side.  Perfectly neutral."    
            "Yeah sounds like it."    
            "Okay maybe I'm a bit fonder of you."   
            "When'd you become such a romantic anyways?"    
            "I suck at romance.  I've been told."    
            "Hm," Grace let out.  "I don't know how much I believe that."    
            "If I was good at it fate has a pretty sick sense of humor." 

He was so very done then.  He was surrounded by a shit ton of people he didn't know and yeah a few he loved but the person he wanted to see was across the entire fucking continent.  Too many smells were shoving into his nose and scraping across his tongue.  His teeth were grinding.  Grace didn't say anything else.  She didn't call him back when he stalked off either.  He passed Landon headed for the trees and heard Landon follow him for a few feet before stopping.  Derek didn't turn back, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets hard.  His wolf was all but circling under his skin, whines tugging at his throat.  He just needed…well he needed to run.  Derek nearly jerked to a stop as he realized that he _could_ run.  There was a perimeter.  There were guards for fuck's sakes.  He was as safe as he was ever going to be.  His hands were tearing at his jacket then, yanking it from his shoulders and throwing it to the ground.  He was still in full view of the pack and he didn't care.  He didn't care about anything.  Running anywhere but here sounded like the only thing that could keep the heart beating in his chest.  The shift surged through him, stronger than he was used to, faster too.  Of course he'd forgotten what being near pack was like.  Somewhat funny that he should be reminded as he was running away from them.  But he wouldn't go too far.  Not this time.

Plopping down into the silt by a creek Derek released a heavy sigh.  Water slid down his body slowly and he resisted the urge to get up enough to shake off.  Instead he laid back, one arm under his head.  He was more wolf than he was used to too.  Being near his pack and drawing from their strength again he supposed.  His claws dug into the silt, all four paws, and he breathed in slow and deep.  He'd run until he scented the perimeter and then changed directions, hitting it again and changing directions again.  He'd hunted and then gone for a swim to clean off.  There was something so pure about letting his wolf out.  He hadn't done it in so long.  He'd let his wolf out certainly.  You just couldn't keep it buried absolutely.  It would drive you insane.  But he hadn't just let go.  Not since…  Not since he was a boy.  Listening to the woods around him Derek was sort of surprised no one had come after him.  Not even to make sure he was okay?  But then he remembered his father asking him if he was going to attend the meet.  _Asking_.  It had never been an option.  Ever.  There was a meet you went.  You did whatever your pack required of you.  That was the end of the story.  His family was giving him space.  They must really want him to stay if they were this afraid of scaring him off.  He sighed and a flush of guilt washed over him.  Derek hadn't even really been part of the pack in Washington.  He'd been a guest.  A trespasser to most of them he was sure.  Why Ross had bothered taking him in he didn't know.  Then again he'd been on his own so long.  Ross must have known.  He was always creepy smart like that.  Like he could read your mind as if you'd just laid it out for him.  He'd even been right about Stiles.  Derek's lips curled.  _I thought no one would ever fit you so well as him_.  He didn't even know if he wanted Ross to be right.  What if he was?  What if he wasn't?  Derek bit at his lip, the tiny flare of pain a sorry attempt at distraction.  He wondered if Stiles had made it home yet.  If he was okay.  When he was going to laugh again.  When he was going to forget about Derek and move on.  He was running again with the next breath. 

Smoke was just barely lingering in the air when Derek finally made his way back home.  The meet had broken up hours ago and while he wondered if anyone had bothered to gather his clothes he certainly wasn't worried about it enough to track back and pick them up.  There was always tomorrow and a little water wouldn't do them any harm.  All he wanted to do now was sag into bed.  Maybe curled around Stiles' shirt.  He knew he shouldn't.  He should make the scent last a long fucking time because he'll only want it more once it's well and truly gone but he was feeling weak and lonely and he wanted it.  He wasn't expecting Will to be sitting on the top step.  There were no words exchanged, and why would there be Derek was still on all fours, Will just stood and stretched, waiting for him.  Derek huffed out what would have been a sigh, what was very nearly a whine, and approached the steps.  He climbed them slowly, a whine escaping when Will's fingers dragged between his shoulders.    
            "You can bunk with me tonight," he offered, pulling the door open and holding it.  Derek managed a quick nod before creeping into the house and starting up the stairs.  He listened as Will closed the door softly and paced into the kitchen.  The fridge opened and shut and then Will was on the stairs too, a hand straying to Derek's shoulder as he caught up.  "Your room or mine?"  Will gave a quick scratch and Derek huffed in return.  "Whatever's closest right."  Derek waited impatiently for Will to open his door, which was ridiculous really because if he just got back on two feet he could do it himself; the rest of Derek's brain was unimpressed with this observation.  He didn't feel like doing it himself.  He still just wanted to crawl into bed.  That was all he wanted.  Sleep didn't sound half bad either.   

He was on the stairs before he realized that he was awake.  He was also naked but that wasn't his first concern.  He'd been dreaming.  A dream.  Just a dream.  His heart wouldn't quiet in his chest and he had to force himself to turn around and go back to his room.  Sweat was sticking to his skin and his chest ached with how hard he'd been breathing.  He knew, he knew, that Stiles was okay.  It had just been a dream.  But he crossed to his dresser anyways.  The screen of his phone glared to life and Derek squinted against it.  He dialed Ross.    
            "Derek?" he sounded alert and concerned and Derek was biting his lips against a whimper just like that.    
            "How is he?" his tone was pleading and Derek's free hand curled, cautious of how fragile his phone was.  Ross was silent a long moment.  
            "He's sleeping.  We gave him some medicine.  He'll be okay."    
            "Sleeping," Derek repeated.  He sagged against the dresser and exhaled.  "Okay yeah."    
            "Derek," his tone was hesitant and Derek tensed again.  "You can't do this.  When Stiles leaves here there won't be a way to contact him.  You won't be able to check on him.  You have to let him go."  It was like a solid punch to his gut, or more accurately a few claws digging right into his gut, and Derek gritted his teeth.    
            "I know," he managed, eyes burning.  He sucked in a quick breath and held it, trying to calm down.  "No.  I know.  I didn't mean to.  I won't.  Okay."  He ended the call and closed his fingers around the phone, working to breathe. 

The quiet  
            "Derek," behind him wasn't enough to hide the crunch of the plastic.  He set the mangled phone back on the dresser carefully.  For several moments he didn't move, forcing himself not to tug open the bottom drawer.  He was being ridiculous.  Stiles was fine.  He would be fine.  It wasn't like Derek even had a right to hurt this much.  He'd done the right thing and he knew he had.  Plus he hadn't really lost him.  Not like he'd lost Laura.  And he had no business hurting what felt like the same amount.  But maybe it was just because it was fresh.  Maybe it wouldn't be so bad in a few more days.  The full moon was coming.  It would get better.  Derek forced his hands to move, opening his top drawer and slipping into boxers.  He didn't feel anything as he did it.  Each motion was mechanical.  Only done because it needed to be done.  He walked back to bed and climbed in, sliding his arm under the pillow before looking to Will.  "Okay?" Will questioned, watching him closely.    
            "Bad dream," Derek said, not letting the thoughts in.  He never wanted to relive that.    
            "Laura?" Will asked very softly.  Derek shook his head.  "Oh."    
            "Yeah."    
            "I'll go with you…to see her…if you want," Will offered haltingly; as if each word was pulled lose with pliers.    
            "Thanks," Derek breathed.  He didn't know when he was going or if he wanted anyone there when he did.  He'd have to decide later.  "It's really weird having someone to lean on," he admitted.    
            "I don't mind you leaning on me Bro."    
            "You're supposed to be able to lean on me."    
            "We're pack," Will told him sternly, "we lean on each other.  You know that.  You're not alone anymore Derek."  He didn't say anything.  He knew he wasn't alone.  But he couldn't help it if he still felt that way. 

Footsteps padded down the hall and Amelia slipped through the door, not pausing to ask permission before climbing in bed too.  Will grumbled, Derek stayed silent, but they both moved over for her.  There were more footsteps before she'd even settled and then Aaron was there too.    
            "What the hell?" Derek mumbled.  "Were you both eavesdropping?"  Will half curled at the foot of the bed, smacking a few feet.    
            "You were whining," Aaron informed him sleepily.  Derek's chin ducked to his chest all on its own and he felt his face heat.    
            "It's fine," Amelia told him, looping an arm over his waist and kicking at Aaron lightly, "we're here."  She wiggled her head until her hair resettled before sighing quickly.  "And you will tell me all about him.  Just.  Later.  When you're ready."  Derek's eyebrows moved up in shock and Will was quick with a,  
            "I didn't say anything."    
            "Course you didn't," Amelia sighed, "fucking werewolf remember.  I have good ears."    
            "You weren't even in the _house_."    
            "No I wasn’t," she agreed and Will looked strangely guilty.  Derek rolled his eyes and settled back into his pillow.    
            "Wasn't like it was gonna stay a secret forever anyways."  Derek didn't even think of the pictures until he'd said it.  Of course Amelia would just act like she already knew.  He closed his eyes instead of rolling them again.  He didn't need to see Amelia's smirk to know it was there.                

 

…

           

            "You don't have to," Ross was saying and Stiles forced himself to tune back into the conversation.  
            "Yeah," he agreed, blinking slowly.    
            "It just might…make things easier.  In a weird way."    
            "Yeah," Stiles repeated, guts doing a sickening flip.  It was the day after Aiden's visit and Ross had come this time.  Stiles felt bad for it, but he was relieved to see him.  "My dad would definitely go easy on me if I'm not like…well when I get back."  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and let it drop.  Ross' plan made sense and he knew it did.  Still Stiles was loathe to really think about it because how was he supposed to leave?  He didn't know most of the pack but they were Derek's pack.  What if he did come back?  And Stiles wasn't here?  Stiles swallowed around a sigh.  It wasn't as if staying was an option anyways.  Staying wasn't an option when Derek was still here.  He definitely couldn't justify staying now that he was gone.  If he left today the remains of the bond would make him cold, weak, possibly despondent.  Ross had already assured him that it wouldn't be bad enough for drugs.  Not to mention, going home to his dad and Scott and even Mrs. McCall would help.  They were _his_ pack and werewolf or not they would be able to offer comfort and support.  If he left now an escape attempt would be more believable.  Well escape success he supposed.  Ross suggested staying as close to the truth as possible.  Stiles could see the wisdom of that.  So kidnapped yes.  Drawn into a cult yes.  Maybe even met someone, Stiles would decide that later.  He'd already decided he'd be as vague as possible when describing his escape.  Or he could even say he'd been helped.  By the man he met.  Just a corner of Stiles' mouth curled at the thought.  He liked the thought immediately.  That way he could tell his dad about Derek.  It would make sense that he missed him. 

Stiles closed his eyes briefly and breathed out.  He was fine.  He just had to remind himself.    
            "So what I tell my dad is completely up to me?"  Stiles wasn't sure why he just felt the need to ask again.  Ross folded his hands in his lap, observing Stiles silently.  _Obviously_.  Stiles could all but hear it and rolled his eyes.  "I mean I could tell him you guys are up here and every full moon," he paused to howl softly.    
            "If you want," Ross allowed.    
            "Really?  Shouldn't there be like a gag order or I don't know 'keep your mouth shut or you'll sleep with the fishes?'"  
            "No offense Stiles but our lawyer is quite expensive and we're not mobsters."    
            "Well just werewolves!" Stiles protested, "You're werewolves!  Shouldn't that require like the utmost secrecy?!"    
            "If secrecy was that desperate for our survival we wouldn't be bringing humans in at all."    
            "Oh," Stiles let out quickly.  "Yeah that makes sense I guess."    
            "There's simply the fact that he might not believe you.  Think you're trying to protect someone.  Or you could feed him half truths and actually try to protect us.  But I highly doubt that the downfall of this entire pack could ever rest on your shoulders.  It's exceedingly unlikely.  I mean they'd have to burn the forest down around us."  He paused to pick something off his slacks as Stiles stared at him.  
            "Well when you put it that way…"  Ross didn't respond, calmly folding his hands again.  "You're such a manipulator," Stiles complained halfheartedly.  "Alright so I don't tell my dad that werewolves exist.  I suppose he'll sleep better at night not knowing anyways.  Back to the cult thing?"  Ross nodded once.    
            "There are some crazy cults on this side of the country."    
            "Tell me about them," Stiles murmured, scooting up the bed before leaning back and closing his eyes.  "I'll need some good material." 

Stiles supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised by the pack's organization.  They had been living in secret and even dragging humans to live with them in secret, for years now.  So he shouldn't have been surprised.  But he was.  It barely seemed possible to be gathering his things later the same day.  The sun was still up, near the middle of the sky.  Stiles was tired and thinking too much, wondering if he'd be able to sleep in the car.  He hadn't been sleeping very well.  Mostly he tried very hard not to think of Derek.  To think about leaving without actually thinking about leaving.  He wasn't leaving.  He was going home.  It was a small, very important distinction.  It made everything a bit easier to swallow and Stiles actually cracked a smile when presented with his book bag.  "Jesus," he exhaled, having totally forgotten it'd been on his back when he was grabbed.  "I never did my chemistry homework," he remembered suddenly.  A slight laugh found its way out.  "Guessing Harris won't accept it late."    
            "I'm sure things will work out," Ross told him.  Stiles had the uneasy notion that he wasn't talking about chemistry.  He swallowed a sigh rather than letting it out.  He was never going to leave if he didn't just do it.    
            "So it's time right?"    
            "Yes," Ross agreed quietly.    
            "Right."  Stiles' teeth clicked together and he slung his book bag over one shoulder.  It was an alien feeling and he ran his hands through his hair quickly to try and dispel the butterflies in his stomach.  Everything would be alright.  He was going home.  Maybe if he just believed that it would be okay it really would be.  It was a childish notion but it made him feel better so he'd take it anyways. 

He was only partly surprised to see pretty much the whole pack gathered once again.  He hadn't been pack very long but he supposed this was tradition.  Taylor and Aubrey hugged him at the same time, making him jump.    
            "Good luck Stiles," Aubrey breathed, smoothing his hair before stepping back into Chase's arm.    
            "Sorry it didn't work man," Taylor told him, hugging him tighter for just a moment.  He was gone before Stiles could sag into him like he really wanted to.  Brennan was right there too, looping an arm over his shoulders and rubbing his cheek along Taylor's.  Stiles felt his eyebrows inch together in confusion but let it pass.    
            "Stiles," Aiden stuck out a hand, eyes observing Stiles.  "I'm gonna miss you," he offered when Stiles took it.    
            "Yeah," Stiles agreed.  He was reasonably sure he'd miss everyone.  It wasn't as if he'd been treated badly here.  And it was only so long before the memories would fade and become even more important to him.  Aiden stepped back too, looking vaguely uncomfortable.  Stiles frowned, yelping when he was yanked into the air by Shane.  It felt like his entire torso was wrapped up in massive arms.    
            "Little man," he sighed, hauling him even higher.  Stiles patted at his bicep awkwardly, gaping when Shane pushed closer to his neck and growled.    
            "Good wolfie?" he tried, voice cracking.  Several wolves were pulling them apart then, Shane shaking his head as if he had to clear it.  Stiles was released, Shane wasn't.    
            "Sorry," Shane said, "I know.  Sorry."    
            "Um," Stiles managed, glancing around uncomfortably.    
            "We can smell the claim on you fading," Ross explained quietly.  "It's somewhat like blood in the water."    
            "Oh," Stiles said, as if that explained everything.    
            "It just makes us a bit…shifty."    
            "Oh.  Well sorry."  Ross smiled at him, guiding him forward with a hand on his shoulder.  
            "It's fine Stiles." 

The interior of the van didn't look nearly so threatening this time and Stiles got in all by himself.  He waved as the door shut, biting at a grimace when the gesture was returned.    
            "Here," one of the wolves in the front offered, tossing fabric back to him.  Stiles realized it was the comforter from Derek's house and sighed quickly.    
            "Thanks," he managed.    
            "It'll help," she added.  Stiles wasn't sure what exactly it was supposed to help with but he unfolded it anyway, wrapping it around his shoulders as the engine started.  He couldn't help the surprised little sound he made as he caught just a hint of Derek in the fabric.  Stiles buried his face deeper, tugging the fabric tighter around him at the same time.  He shuddered just once, the good kind of shudder where everything just feels _amazing_ for about two seconds.  Stiles rolled to his side before struggling to get his book bag out from under the cover.  It was another few moments before he was completely wrapped inside the blanket.  He felt warm and safe and Stiles knew it was all an illusion but he didn't care.  He hadn't actually been cold enough to feel it.  It was one of the things you didn't realize until it wasn't there anymore.  He could finally relax.  Inhaling slowly he let it back out just as slow.  Yeah this was okay.  He could handle this.  But he'd been telling himself that a lot lately hadn't he?  Stiles curled tighter, one hand worming under his shirt for the scratches still lingering on his skin.  Fingertips skittering over them Stiles forced his breathing deep and calm again.  _Warm.  Safe.  Okay._ He dozed off still clinging to the feeling of being okay. 

Stiles felt weirdly groggy when he woke up, tongue too thick in his mouth.  It took what felt like an hour to realize that it was too quiet.  He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, swallowing with some difficulty.    
            "Damn when did you guys drug me?" he questioned, glancing out the windows before looking to the people in the front.    
            "Just after you drifted off," the blonde woman offered with a smile.  She folded her magazine closed before turning back to him.  "We wanted to make sure that you got some rest in case there was any lingering anxiety with leaving, coming home."    
            "I feel okay," Stiles said eventually.  But that was a lie.  He felt shaky.  And scared.  His stomach was tightening up and he wanted his medication if for nothing more than the soothing _pop_ of the lid.    
            "You okay to walk?" the guy in the driver's seat questioned, glancing at him through the mirror.    
            "Uh."  The blonde smacked him with her magazine and growled quickly.    
            "I'm not going to run off with him unclench Zach."  Zach crossed his arms over his chest, falling silent.  "We can't actually drive you into town," she explained after another moment, "cameras you know.  Plus your father has taken to random stop points on the main drag."    
            "Wait what?" Stiles questioned, feeling himself frown.    
            "Trying to make the town safer."  Stiles smiled even though it felt like a solid hit to the gut too.    
            "So how far do I have to walk?" he questioned as it finally occurred to him.

The blonde woman, Ella, helped him out of the van.  She looked sort of sad and Stiles had the urge to hug her but resisted, remembering Zach.  It was hard to remember that he'd actually become whatever the werewolf version of catnip was, not that the irony of it was lost on Stiles.  He wanted to drag the comforter out with him but how would he explain that?  Blowing out a sigh he did one of the last things he could think of to stall.  "So like…no werewolves are gonna be drawn to me or something equally _The Vampire Diaries_ ish?"    
            "We'll keep an eye out until you're in the clear."    
            "I thought you couldn't come into town?"    
            "Not with you no."  She smiled enough that her nose wrinkled and Stiles laughed just once.  
            "Yeah that makes sense I guess."    
            "Plus we probably won't actually go into town.  We should be able to scent if anything gets close."    
            "That's reassuring," Stiles told her, tugging on his backpack so he had something to do.    
            "You know the sooner you start walking the sooner you get there," Zach offered, glaring at both of them.    
            "Real charmer you got there," Stiles told Ella.  "I mean no offense but aren't I a bit too young for you anyways?"  He glanced to Zach.  "Seventeen bro."    
            "We're hardly any older than-" Ella cut off, realizing the thin ground she was on.  "Anyways," she said brightly, "that's not the point."    
            "It's okay."  But his stomach was twisting again.  "I really should get going anyways," Stiles added quietly. 

The goodbyes were brief after that and with one last tug on his book bag strap Stiles set off.  He counted his steps to keep himself from freaking out, pausing in intervals when his lungs were working so hard they burned.  He was not going to have a panic attack on the side of the road.  He wasn't letting himself.  Absolutely not.  Sweat was clinging to his shoulders and he estimated he was only about five minutes out of town when he had to stop again.  He was trembling and he couldn't seem to breathe deep enough.  He curled a hand over his mouth trying to slow down; it only increased the panic pressing on his chest.  Dropping to the dusty ground he tucked his head between his knees and tried to remember how he'd felt wrapped up tight in the blanket.  "You're fine, you're fine," he mumbled to himself.  "You've been fine without the meds you don't need them it's all in your head you're fine just breathe.  Breathe."  Curling up into a ball on the ground had never not worked but Stiles was still a bit shocked it did this time.  He took the time to brush himself off before starting again.  Everything was going to be okay.  He was going to see his dad.  He was going to go home to his room.  Sleep in his own bed.  Get back on the internet.  Go back to school.  Yeah okay that wasn't the greatest thing.  Play video games with Scott.  Have their stupid sleepovers that still resulted in drawn on mustaches.  Everything was going to be okay.  Great even.  Everything was going to be great.  Eventually.  "Great," Stiles told himself, the word falling hollow.  He kicked at the dust, almost satisfied when a pebble went flying into the grass.  "Fucking sucks," he admitted, pausing again to wallow in self pity.  He just needed to get it out now.  He couldn't go back to his dad and be missing Derek.  No.  When he saw his dad again he didn't want to be thinking about anything but his dad.  His dad was what mattered now.  It didn't take long to gather himself once he shifted the focus to his dad.  He wanted to see him so badly.  Wanted to hug him.  Stiles' eyes burned and he inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly.  Fingers ran through his hair, and he really needed a haircut, digging into his scalp to distract him.  "Okay just keep walking you're being pathetic." 

Goosebumps shot across his skin with a vindictive tingling as he passed the sign announcing Beacon Hills.  It was really just…weird.  Of course the Sheriff's office was close to the center of town and he still had about two miles to go.  For the first time Stiles wondered if anyone would see him on the way in.  What would happen if they did?  But he was already too on edge to worry about that.  Stiles forced thoughts away and started counting steps again.  It was an easy cadence and Stiles was somewhat soothed just watching his feet eat up ground.  He was turning onto Main Street before he really knew it, pausing to gasp in a quick breath.  So far so good.  Then again it was early evening, probably supper time.  Most people would be in their houses or in the few restaurants.  Come to think of it Stiles had hardly eaten breakfast and his stomach gave a growl that had him lurching forward.  "Stupid drugging werewolves don't even feed me," he grumbled half heartedly.  But there'd probably be food at the station.  Especially if his dad was eating dinner there.  Stiles had the sinking feeling that he was.  _Keep going, keep going, keep going.  Don't stop.  Don't think.  Just walk._ He made it another block that way and Stiles knew any minute, any second really, the station was going to come into sight.  The most unexplainable fear gripped him.  For two paralyzing seconds Stiles couldn't move, not even to breathe.  What if his father wasn't there?  What if he hadn't been eating right?  What if he'd been working too hard or stressed too much?  What if he'd had more 'chest trouble' and refused to go to the doctor like Stiles had to hound him to do?  "Dad," Stiles let out, voice cracking on the tiny word.  He _moved_.  His feet shoved off the ground and his body fell forward so fast his book bag slapped into him as it was yanked along. 

Absolute silence fell as he shoved the door open and Stiles froze in reaction to the freezing.  One hand was still flat on the glass, the other holding his book bag.  He panted for air as his eyes raced over the deputy sitting at the front desk.  His jaw moved as if he was trying to speak.  Nothing came out.  "I'm just gonna," Stiles said, motioning vaguely and stepping forward.  The deputy still didn't manage anything, a vein starting to throb in his neck.  Silence fell again as he stepped into the main part of the station and Stiles swallowed as a ridiculous case of nerves assaulted him.  A file fell to the floor and Stiles watched the papers swirl and spread before looking back to his father.  He was smiling then, stupidly, and crying, but only a little.    
            "Stiles?"  And his father sounded so…haunted.  Stiles started moving forward, only swiping at one of his cheeks because who even had the time to pretend they weren't crying at a moment like this.    
            "You're okay," he managed, still out of breath, words rasping over his tongue.    
            "I'm okay?" his father demanded, moving towards him too.  "What the hell do you mean I'm okay Son?"  He pulled Stiles to him roughly, arms wrapping around firmly, hands gripping his back tightly.  "You're so ridiculous," his dad laughed, voice wavering.    
            "You know I worry about you Dad," Stiles told him, tears falling quick now.    
            "So ridiculous," he repeated.  " _You_ get kidnapped and you worry about _me_.  You know you're not forty seven right?"    
            "Hey I spent a lot of time worrying about me too okay?  And I'm fine," he pulled back just a bit, "fine look, look at me."  His father's hands framed his face warmly and he smiled briefly.    
            "I could wring your neck you little delinquent."  Stiles laughed and tried to wipe at his cheeks, mostly blocked by his dad's hands.    
            "This actually was not my fault.  I promise."    
            "I love you," his father told him, eyes intense as he looked at Stiles.  Stiles more or less fell into him, hugging him again.  
            "I love you too Dad."

            "What am I chopped liver?"  Stiles jerked up to see Scott over his dad's shoulder.  His jaw flapped open.  
            "Scott!  What are you doing here?"  Scott looked wounded shortly before smiling again, like a puppy.  
            "What do you think dumbass?  I'm helping find you!"  For a second he tried to worm between them, flinching back when Stiles' father grunted at him.    
            "You can hug the other half.  I'm not done with this one."  Stiles wanted to laugh so badly his chest burned with it.  Scott was enveloping him from behind then and Stiles couldn't breathe properly.  He half turned towards Scott, a smile breaking over his lips.    
            "So what you've been like…volunteering here?"    
            "Yeah.  Pretty much every day.  Some guys from the team too.  Occasionally.  And you just missed my mom.  She had to go home and sleep before the night shift."  So much for being done crying.    
            "You guys," he tried to say, except it came out more like _you g-_ as his voice fell off.  He reached one arm back to hug Scott the best he could, slapping his back twice.    
            "Love you man," Scott offered.  Stiles tried to mumble a reply, garbled by his father's chest and his tears.    
            "We should get you to the hospital," his father said, pulling back, "get you looked over."    
            "What?  Dad I'm fine…well actually I'm half starved but-"  His father's eyes narrowed and his mouth pinched.  
            "You look skinnier," he allowed seriously.    
            "Well yes but…it was voluntary.  I promise."  His father's eyebrows shot up in a look of pure disbelief and he opened his mouth before snapping it shut again.  He started moving them both towards the door, Scott still tangled up in Stiles and following after a moment's confusion.    
            "I'm gonna get him home," his father tossed over his shoulder, as if he'd finally realized they were in a room full of law enforcement.  This was received with more dead silence. 

Stiles had never been so glad to smell the greasy, stale interior of his father's cruiser in his life.  Scott went into the backseat with a few moments of pouting; Stiles followed his father's lead and ignored it.  "Drive thru then home, hospital tomorrow."    
            "Dad I swear I'm-" he was silenced with a look.  Okay.  His dad had his serious face on.  Actually it was his _I'm arresting somebody_ face but no one was being arrested which only put Stiles further on edge.  At least it wasn't his _somebody died_ face.    
            "Wait we are talking about where he was and what the hell happened right?"  Scott questioned, fingers poking through the grating as he leaned forward.    
            "Sit back," the Sheriff ordered, taking a sharp right turn.  Scott yelped as he was thrown to the side, fingers slipping right off the worn metal.  " _We_ will be discussing it yes.  You will be going home and doing your homework."    
            "What?  Sherriff Sti-"  
            "Scott.  If I ever have to perjure myself that is one thing.  I will not be letting the same thing happen to you.  Granted you're still a minor and would probably get off with a slap on the wrists but it would make my charges worse in any case."  Stiles' jaw dropped open and he all but whined as his father turned into a restaurant.  Drool pooled on his tongue and he swallowed quickly.  
            "Wait _perjure_?  As in perjury?  Dad that is so not even necessary I can't even think how that would ever be necessary.  Like.  Ever."    
            "Son.  Stop talking."  He rolled his window down and ordered rapidly before glancing back.  "If you need to talk about something talk about something else."  His tone was very close to affectionate and Stiles almost expected a quick head rub.  He didn't get one.    
            "But I really don't understand," he pressed as they rolled up to the window.  "How could you possibly have to perjure yourself?"    
            "Stiles you've been hanging around the station long enough to know the answer to that."  Stiles huffed out a quick breath, brain unwilling to cooperate with him. 

Perjury was lying in court, under oath.  So this was assuming his father would be in court.  Okay.  He would have to lie in court.  This was something Stiles couldn't even picture.  But he was the one who presented the idea so clearly he could picture it.  So his dad committing perjury.  He'd have to be testifying then.  Which would mean…Stiles would be on trial.  Stiles frowned deeper.  That.  No.  What?  What would Stiles be on trial for?  His thought process was thrown off the rails as his dad handed him a hot bag, one corner already soaking in grease.    
            "Oh god _fooooooooood_ ," he let out, drool pouring into his mouth again.    
            "At least that hasn't changed," his father let out quietly, reaching over to rub Stiles' head affectionately then.  Stiles grinned at him before tearing into the bag.  He whimpered as curly fries burned his tongue but kept chewing anyways.    
            "I want chili like well not tonight but tomorrow okay?  I've been thinking about that."  His father looked mildly surprised but nodded anyways.    
            "Hey wait can I spend the night?" Scott was clinging to the grating again.    
            "No."  Both boys whined in sync and he visibly softened.  "Tomorrow."    
            "Sweet."   Stiles fed him a curly fry through the grating in victory.  Scott chewed happily and Stiles shoved more fries into his mouth.  His mind dragged back to perjury as he ate, somewhat like a slug.  Stiles resisted associating the salt he was licking from his fingers with slugs and slow painful deaths.  Barely.  Instead he went back to perjury.  There was a pit stop at purgatory but that was okay.  So his dad would have to lie for him.    
            "I didn't run," he said softly as it finally occurred to him.  "I didn't run away.  I swear."  Not that it was even likely he'd be arrested for it but then again Stiles didn't know what had happened in his absence.  If lots of valuable time and money had been used to search for him it could be a difficult situation.  Maybe his father was just being as cautious as he felt he needed to be.  The last thing he wanted was to lose Stiles again.  Stiles knew because one of the last things he wanted was to lose his dad again. 

It was about twenty minutes later; Stiles and his father were on the couch and Stiles had the feeling it was going to be one of the most comfortable interrogations ever.  He could still see Scott camped out on the hood of the cruiser, so they were all sure he didn't hear something he wasn't supposed to hear.    
            "Okay I've fed you and taken you out of the station where we're supposed to be having this discussion.  Actually I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be asking the questions here but we're going to ignore that right now.  I'd say my parental duties have been filled?"  Stiles smiled quickly.  
            "Yeah probably."    
            "I already know when and where you disappeared.  The phone call.  As well as half a dozen sightings various places in Washington.  Only two confirmed.  Start when you were taken."  Stiles nearly rolled his eyes but at the same time he was panicking because holy shit _sightings_?  How was he supposed to deliver the whole 'kidnapped by a crazy cult' bit now?  Why hadn't he thought of this?  Of _course_ there were going to be sightings!  Of course his father was going to report him missing and launch a search for him and he'd already known all of that _stupid, stupid, stupid_!  His dad was the sheriff for fuck's sakes!  How was he supposed to lie to him?  Stiles' tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.  "Son?"  Oh god he was half a second from having a panic attack.  "Stiles!  Breathe!"  His father gripped both his shoulder tightly and Stiles sucked in a huge gasp.  "Just tell me the truth," his father pressed.  Expert interrogation skills.  He was so fucked.  Stiles closed his eyes and focused just on breathing.  His father let him.  But he'd known Stiles all his life.  He knew when to push and when to back off.  _Screwed.  So screwed._  
            "Okay here's the thing," Stiles exhaled.  "I don't have any proof." 

Stiles nearly started a tally for how many times his father stopped him to ask if he was kidding.  He nearly started a tally for how many times he thought he should start a tally.    
            "Oh my god Dad!"  Stiles threw both hands over his eyes and groaned.  "This is not the time or place for kidding do you really think I would be telling you this if it wasn't true come on!"  He glanced out the window and hoped Scott wasn't too cold.  The sun went down about forty minutes ago.  "I'm not even _supposed_ to tell you this so the least you could do is at least _consider_ the fact that I'm telling the truth!"  His father leveled him with a glare that frankly had nothing on Derek's.  It was so non-intimidating at this point that Stiles almost laughed.  Clearly that would be the wrong reaction.    
            "You're telling me you were kidnapped to be a werewolf mail order bride Son."  Stiles was really close to laughing again even though this was not nearly as funny.  
            "Not my words!" Stiles yelped.    
            "I really don't want to revisit your words," his father muttered.  "So they just let you go?  Why?"    
            "Yes they let me go.  Well.  Like.  He-" Stiles paused and tried to breathe.  "He didn't want to like…make it permanent."  He knew the hurt was plain in his words.  Even he could hear it.    
           

            "Well then he has shitty taste."  Stiles barked out a surprised laugh.    
            "No it's…he wanted me to be able to come home Dad."    
            "So he didn't," his father leaned back slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose before popping another button open and tugging his collar even looser.  "God I need a drink," he sighed.  "Okay so he didn't _mate_ with you so that you could come home."  _Don't lie, don't lie, don't lie he'll know!_  
            "I wouldn't be here otherwise," Stiles said carefully.    
            "Do you want to be here?"  There was no accusation to the words.  It was just a question.  Stiles teeth tugged on his lip anyways.  
            "Yes…mostly."  
            "I preferred when you were in love with Lydia," his father told him plainly.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  
            "Yeah I mostly do too."    
            "Okay tell Scott to get his ass in here.  I know you guys missed each other."  Stiles did his best not to flush guiltily.  "I'm gonna go have that drink."  His father pushed off the couch and Stiles followed, hugging him tightly again.  "This is a lot to take in," his father admitted.  "I don't know what to make of it.  We'll talk more tomorrow.  Get you to the doctor.  Don't argue."    
            "We're gonna have to figure out what we're telling everybody else," Stiles mumbled.    
            "We'll figure it out."  His father rubbed his back soothingly and Stiles sighed.    
            "I love you."    
            "You too Son."             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH I AM SO MASSIVELY NERVOUS ABOUT THIS CHAPTER OKAY.
> 
> I reserve the right to edit later because I am so fucking tired right now.
> 
> Super long week. Ppl on tumblr know already.
> 
> Still not ready to talk about it. 
> 
> Oh and I'm sorry about the two different times thing. I'm trying to get that done with as soon as possible. 
> 
> For now it is what is though.
> 
> I really just hope it's good and yeah *hugs*


	22. And it's Not Easy to Talk About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of time jumps here! Mostly in Stiles' part...
> 
> I'm sorry in advance.

Derek was staring at the tangle of roots beneath his ankles.  He heard his mother coming but didn't shift.  She sat on the bench, evidently waiting for him to speak.  Derek had tried sitting on the bench but it felt odd.  He wanted to be closer to Laura.   It was a mistake to look at her but Derek didn't know that until it was too late.  His mother had talked to Curtis; it was plain in the soft lines of her face.  Derek swallowed around a sigh but didn't say anything.  He didn't know what there was to say.  Not that he ever really did but it was even more so now.  He was a mess.  Such a mess.  Just a tangled mass of limbs and shut down emotions and _issues_.  Coming home was supposed to make it better and it had, it sort of had.  Because Derek belonged here.  He knew deep inside both heart and soul, even in his mind too, that he belonged here.  But something was missing.  And Derek was so turned around he didn't even know if it was Laura anymore.  He'd been spending a lot of time here; he could smell himself in the bark of the tree like he was becoming a part of it.  Like Laura had become a part of it.  Some days it's a nice thought, part of Laura growing into this tree.  Some days he has terrible visions of her body encased and twisted in gnarly roots.  He focused on his mother again, blinking rapidly.    
            "I'm fine."    
            "You're better than when you left," she corrected softly.  "This boy…he helped you."  Derek wished it was a question.  Then he'd at least have something to say or at least have an idea where this conversation was going.  "You love him."  It was enough of a question that Derek nodded, eyes dropping to the ground again.  "You miss him."  He nodded again.  "As bad as you missed us?"  Finally an actual question but Derek's chest drew tight with it.  He wished she asked something else.  Anything else.    
            "It's not the same," he finally told her.  She waited.  "I thought I would never come back here.  That you didn't want me back.  So it was…easier…in a way.  To just shut off."  His breath hitched and he hated words then.  He hated what they reminded him of.  He hated the way his mother pushed off the bench and all but crashed next to him, wrapping an arm tightly around him.    
            "God I love you so much," she breathed in his ear, voice trembling with emotion.  "You were so alone and it kills me."  He let himself rest against her, breathing her in.  It took a long time for his heart to slow again.

"You're so much like your father," she said eventually, fingers dragging slow through his hair.  "He hates talking too.  But I was never fooled.  Just because you don't say anything doesn't mean you don't _feel_ anything."    
            "Sometimes words make it worse," he admitted on a whisper.    
            "I know, baby."    
            "It's easier not to miss him if I don't say it out loud."    
            "Mmhmm," she hummed in agreement.    
            "But I can't accept that I'm never going to see him again.  I can't accept it and shut it down and why is that?  I don't love him more than you.  I _can't_."  There was a long silence and Derek's chest ached with it.    
            "Maybe it's because you got us back when you thought you were never going to.  Maybe it's too soon.  But maybe you really do love him more."  Derek made a wounded noise, he couldn't help it.  He wasn't sure what hurt more, the fact that he thought he did love Stiles more or the fact that he couldn't seem to stop it.  "I love your father more than my parents.  I love you more than my parents.  It's not the same type of love Derek.  When you meet someone that wasn't already a part of you, like we are, and they find their way inside of you…they make their own space in your soul.  It's newer and deeper and there's a reason that people spend their whole lives looking for someone else to match them."  Derek's throat felt thick and raw and he didn't even want to attempt speech.  "You don't have to feel guilty for loving him Derek.  It doesn't mean you love us any less.  And even if you did…well you're home now.  I couldn't find it in me to complain."    
            "And I'm happy to be home," the words pushed out without him thinking them over and Derek was glad.  "I just…I'm trying to put myself back together.  In more ways than one."    
            "I know," her fingers scratched his scalp one more time before slipping out.  She pushed him off her shoulder gently.  "Curtis and I are tag teaming you."  Derek grimaced.    
            "I should start running now, shouldn't I?"  

            "It wouldn't do you any good."            
            "I could probably outrun you," he muttered petulantly.    
            "I'm just here to get you to hear Curtis out."    
            " _Mom_ ," Derek groaned, feeling much younger for a moment.  She rubbed his head, verging on too hard, and Derek ducked away.    
            "He's your brother.  He's the next Alpha.  You need to at least listen.  You don't have to follow through but…you should hear him out."  Derek didn't respond.  He didn't make an effort to move either.  "He's waiting for you five miles east," she pressed.  When he still didn’t move he received a sharp pinch to the ear, a whine slipping out as he shoved to his feet.  He rubbed at it with one hand, growling just barely.  "Spent too long repressing yourself," she tsked before snapping her teeth and making a shooing motion with her hand.    
            "I'm not used to my ears being savagely attacked," he defended himself.    
            "Anymore," she added, shooing him again.    
            "I think I can still count on one hand the times you've pinched my ear."    
            "Mm maybe you're right.  You were always a good pup."  Derek's cheeks heated and he ducked his chin, tempted to smile.  "Now be a good pup and go see your brother."  Derek grimaced again.    
            "Fine," he sighed, "but I'm only doing this to protect my ears."  She rose gracefully and offered a magnanimous smile.    
            "You're making the right decision." 

Derek followed the trail Curtis had left for him, pushing branches out of the way carefully.  Silence slowly fell ahead of him and he paused to listen.  He barely heard it, closing his eyes and moving on instinct.    
            "Nice," Curtis murmured appreciatively, stalking forward.  Derek turned to see knife buried hilt deep in the bark of a tree.    
            "If I hadn't dodged it?" Derek questioned, pushing off the ground and brushing a hand over his chest.       
            "I'd have dragged you down to Jeremiah's.  Obviously."  Derek nearly laughed.  "He's not the only healer anymore but he's still the most popular.  Probably the only one you'd let touch you anyways."  Derek lifted one shoulder in a shrug.  Going to a stranger bleeding out didn't sound appealing.  "Come on," Curtis said then, "got something to show you."  He tucked his knife away with a slick little sound before jerking his head back the way he'd come.  Swallowing around his dread, thick as it was, Derek followed again.  Derek wondered if the clearing was natural or if they'd made it themselves.  He couldn't remember.  Either way there was a huge shed in on corner, targets sprinkled through the clearing.    
            "What is this?"  Derek's feet stopped all on their own.    
            "This is how we protect ourselves," Curtis told him.  "You wanna learn how to shoot?"  Derek was already shaking his head.  
            "No.  No I don't."    
            "Why not?" Curtis questioned as if he'd expected that answer.  He probably had.    
            "Why would I _want_ to?" Derek countered, horrified.    
            "To protect yourself.  Protect your pack."  Curtis shot him a significant glance before pulling knives from under his shirt and launching them at a target a good fifty feet away.  Derek heard each one sink in, nearly shivering.  "You're scared," Curtis told him.  "You've been running for years.  Aren't you sick of it?"    
            "I'm fine."  He'd been telling himself that so long he was actually starting to believe it.    
            "What if you didn't have to be scared anymore?" Curtis questioned. 

Derek tensed, hands curling.  "We don't ask for trouble," Curtis added, heading towards the target.  "We never ask for trouble.  But if it comes to us.  We handle it."  Derek shook his head slowly.  "Aaron likes using a crossbow.  Amelia is fonder of knives.  Will likes guns."  He shook his head again.  He couldn't be hearing this.    
            "When did this happen?" he questioned, feeling breathless.  "When did you all become warriors?"    
            "Hunters came," Curtis said darkly.  "After you left."  He pulled his knives free before launching them into a different target, shifting like he was uncomfortable in his skin.  "We killed them.  Nearly lost Mom doing it too."  He spun back to Derek, eyes glowing.  "So what are we supposed to do?  Hide out here and _hope_ they don't come?  Slink away and lick our wounds when they do?  It's true most hunters abide by a code of honor but there are still hunters that don't.  There are still hunters that will come after us."  He rolled his neck and exhaled deeply.  "We can do this the easy way or the hard way Derek.  That's up to you."  Derek was still trying to process.  He couldn't think what to say.  "If you're going to stay with us you at least need to know how to protect yourself.  Everyone in our family has a base knowledge of weapons."  With that Curtis was walking towards the shed and hauling the door open.  He started bringing out weapons and setting them in the grass.  Derek watched him do it dumbly. 

Curtis showed him how to load and unload the guns and a crossbow.  Sitting in the grass Derek still didn't say a word.  Derek went perfectly still when Curtis offered him the hilt of a knife.  He shook his head, minutely at first.    
            "How can you do that," the words came out mangled.  "How can you use knives when-" his voice didn't so much fail him as it started choking him.    
            "Because knives are easy to conceal.  They're quiet.  And people underestimate you," Curtis answered flatly.  Part of Derek thought he was being ridiculous.  Knives were knives.  You couldn't hold a grudge against every knife because of what one had done.  His mother still used knives.  Curtis and Amelia obviously did too.  He couldn't make his fingers loosen.  He couldn't make himself take the knife.  "We can take it slow," Curtis offered eventually, withdrawing the knife to sink it deep into the grass.  "Why don't we try some target practice?"  But Derek's heart was racing and he felt sick.  His vision swam for a moment.  The wolf surged to the surface and he didn't try to stop it, letting it out and bolting instead.  Curtis followed, at a distance.  Derek was tempted to turn and snap at him but he had the feeling Curtis only wanted to make sure he was okay, that he hadn't pushed too hard.  He had but then Curtis always had been more acceleration than caution.  A lot like Derek used to be.  He was considering slowing down and making his way back to the house when Curtis shoved him from behind, sending him sprawling into a creek.  Curtis jumped in after him, nearly landing on top of him.  "Okay the serious portion of the day is over.  We can try again in a few days."  Derek's eyebrows moved up.  Curtis' arm wrapped around Derek's neck, the other lifting before he dragged his knuckles across Derek's skull.  Derek tried to shove him off, trying not to laugh purely because he wasn't sure how to react.  His older brother was giving him a _noogie_ and now was he supposed to react?    
            "Curt get off!" he finally managed to protest, shoving at what he could reach of Curtis' torso.  In response Curtis dunked him, Derek sucking in a huge mouth full of water.  Derek managed to not panic, barely, instead he was swamped with memories of swimming with Stiles. 

His limbs felt heavy suddenly, dragging sluggishly through the water.  He broke the surface purely by chance, sinking back under almost immediately.  Curtis' arms looped under his, yanking him back up.  
            "Whoa whoa," he breathed, tilting Derek's chin up.  "Okay brother; let's get you out of the water."  Derek let himself be guided, forcing his lungs to keep working.  "We're gonna need to go shopping soon with how few clothes you brought home."  Derek's lips curled just barely.  
            "Wasn't a problem back in Washington."    
            "That doesn't sound like much fun," Curtis told him, dragging him up onto the shore.    
            "It was alright."    
            "That wasn't even a lie," Curtis observed quietly.    
            "Washington was better than the other places."  Curtis tensed next to him slowly, shoving hair off his forehead and exhaling.    
            "I can't imagine being without a pack."  Derek sat up slowly, looking away before picking at some silt on his arm.  "How did you do it?"    
            "I had to."  There was a long silence between them.    
            "Derek I'm sorry," Curtis said finally.  "If I ever made you feel like Laura's death was your fault.  If I made you feel like you had to leave.  I'm sorry."  Derek couldn't look back to him, chest aching.    
            "No," he tried, "it wasn't- It's not- I know it's my fault.  No one had to tell me.  No one had to make me feel that way."  Curtis made a sound that never left his throat, maybe an aborted whine.    
            "You don't…you don't _still_ think it's your fault do you?"  Derek didn't answer.  He knew where this was going and it was pointless to have this talk again.  "Derek," Curtis growled.    
            "She wouldn't have been out there if it hadn't been for me," he gritted in return before Curtis could say anything else.  "There is no argument to make there is no one else to blame.  _Stop it_."    
            "You need to talk to Dad," Curtis said tightly, shoving off the ground. 

Derek basically sulked in the woods for a few hours.  He made a wide berth around Curtis' trail and it took him even longer to get back to the house.  It was silent when he pushed the door open, one heartbeat other than his own.  Derek ignored it and climbed the stairs slowly.  Yanking on his last pair of jeans he pulled a shirt out of the drawer.  He wasn't surprised to see his father standing in the doorway.  Neither of them said anything and Derek tugged his shirt on before rolling his neck in an effort to release the tension.    
            "We need to talk," he murmured, words slow and firm.  Derek sighed and sank onto his bed, which his mom had made at some point.  "It doesn't have to be here," his father added after a moment.  
            "Might as well," Derek exhaled.  Much easier to pack his things and go from here.  He tried not to think it.  Running away wasn't the answer.  It didn't make him any happier.  But he didn't think he could handle this.  Derek wasn't sure if his father could read him that well or if he just didn't want to have this talk here, either way he shook his head.  
            "Nah come on.  Let's get out of the house."  Derek sighed again quickly before nodding.  Waiting for his dad to start talking might have been more comfortable than trying to talk to Curtis.  Derek couldn't really tell because if it was it was by an infinitesimally small amount.  As it was silence reined as they walked.  It took Derek a while to realize that his father was waiting for them to stop and that he was letting Derek choose when that was.  He stalled a few more minutes before grabbing a low hanging branch and swinging into a tree.  His claws sunk into the bark and he forced a deep breath.  There were nearly silent scratches as his father joined him, settling on a branch slightly higher up about two feet away. 

"The time hasn't fixed it," he said eventually.  Derek pulled a leaf free before eviscerating it.  "It's made it better though."  Derek nodded.  Things hadn't been nearly as tense as before he'd left.  "That's something," his father allowed quietly.  Derek held in a snort, barely.  "I know you don't want to talk about this Derek but I do.  I want to talk about this and we need to talk about this because I mourned for your sister a long time.  It took me even longer to realize that I was disrespecting her."  Derek went still, almost perfectly.  "I know you've gone over that night a million times.  What would have happened if you hadn't wanted to go out.  But Son what you need to consider is if you hadn't gone out and they'd come to the house instead."  Derek stopped breathing.    
            "Nothing would have happened," he tried to protest; "they wouldn't have known what we were."  
            "You think your sister revealed herself to them?  They already knew there were werewolves in the area."  Derek inhaled purely because he had to, hands gripping at the branch he sat on.    
            "No," was all he managed.    
            "There's no way for us to know.  But is the risk worth it?"  For a horrifying moment Derek could see it.  Men with guns and knives infiltrating their home, attacking them.  They wouldn't have thought to try and defend themselves.  Even if they had Laura would have been the only one old enough to even try and defend herself properly.  "Your sister didn't think so either."  His father fell silent again, maybe to try and give him time.  "Why do you think she was running away from the house?"    
            "She was looking for me," Derek protested again.    
            "With hunters on her tail?  Wounded?  Would you have led them to her?"    
            "But…" he drifted, not having anything else to say.    
            "Smelling you probably scared her more than anything they could have done."  Derek shook his head again.  This went against everything he'd been telling himself for years.  This couldn't be real.    
            "I was supposed to protect her," he managed, weakly.    
            "You were her baby brother.  _She_ was supposed to protect _you_.  And she did."    
            "Dad."  His eyes were burning wet.  Derek felt like he was barely holding on.    
            "Is Will supposed to protect you?"    
            "No of course not-"  
            "Then stop being unfair to yourself Son." 

The branch swayed dangerously as his father jumped to it, one arm wrapping tightly around Derek's trembling shoulders.  "She died," his father said firmly.  "It is _not_ your fault."  Derek wanted to argue but everything he used to use as argument had already been pushed aside.  He felt…lost.  "Will you finally listen," his father whispered, "if I tell you we never blamed you?"  Derek listened to the steady thump of his father's heart.  It didn't mean anything, they all knew how to lie to each other, but he still felt himself relax.  "We've waited so long for you to come home.  Losing you was so hard Derek."    
            "I'm sorry."  
            "Don't apologize.  It's all starting to make sense now.  It's going to be okay."  Derek leaned on his father and they stayed that way for the rest of the afternoon.

…

Stiles swallowed nervously, running a hand over his hair.  It prickled against his skin and he let it distract him for a moment.  
            "So…um.  Awkward."  Danny huffed out a laugh next to him.  
            "Yeah."  Silence fell again and Stiles listened to the pounding music from downstairs.  
            "In my defense…this is my first party.  And I am more than buzzed."    
            "In my defense it seemed like an excellent way to shut you up…five minutes ago."    
            "Offensive," Stiles shot at him, lips trying a smile.  He could still taste Danny and it was…weird…honestly.    
            "Everybody's gonna think we had sex," Danny said, not looking at him.  Stiles shrugged.  
            "Good maybe they'll ask you about the cult instead."    
            "Maybe it'll distract me from my ex," Danny sighed.  Stiles half turned on the bed they were sharing.  
            "You were going for a rebound make-out too?"    
            "Wait what," Danny demanded eyes huge.  "I thought you wanted to experiment!" he hissed.    
            "When did I say that?" Stiles questioned, brows shoving together in confusion.    
            "Wait, wait," Danny said, throwing up both hands, "you're gay?"    
            "Um.  Bi." 

Damn why was he blushing?  It wasn't like he hadn't just had Danny's tongue trying to scrape his teeth.    
            "And you figured this out when?"    
            "Few weeks ago," Stiles mumbled, blushing harder.    
            "How?  What?  With _who_?"  Stiles squirmed uncomfortably, simultaneously glad he'd stopped drinking when he had and wishing that he'd kept going.    
            "You don't know him."    
            "Oh my _god_.  Stiles Stilinski.  You did not fall in love with a boy in a cult."  Danny sounded more amused than scandalized but Stiles dipped his head anyways, scratching at his hair again.    
            "Yeah," he admitted quietly, horrified at his own mouth.  "I did."  He couldn't help the sudden swell of sadness and _fuck_ wasn't alcohol supposed to make things better?  "Can you drive me home?" he demanded suddenly, eyes filling and making Danny blur.    
            "Uh…I think I've had a bit too much to drink…to drive the sheriff's kid," Danny said hesitantly.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  
            "My dad's not gonna breathalize you!"    
            "He might," Danny protested, eyebrows halfway to his hairline.    
            "Great," Stiles sniffled, turning away.  "How m I gonna get home now?"    
            "Uh Stiles…I don't think you have to worry about that."  Stiles jerked to look towards the window, choking in fear when red and blue lights flared through it.    
            "Oh my god I'm gonna die," he gasped, flopping to the floor in a blind panic and trying to scramble under the bed. 

The music snapped off and it was mass panic downstairs as people began hollering about cops and running.    
            "I was never here," Danny hissed, yanking the closet open and diving inside.  Stiles buried his face in the carpet to muffle his sudden giggles.  It was too quiet downstairs but Stiles didn't realize it soon enough to be unsettled.  The door opened slowly, light from the hall burning Stiles' eyes.  For the first time he realized he wasn't actually under the bed.  _Shit_.    
            "Son.  Why aren't you answering your phone?"  
            "Dad," Stiles croaked, covering his eyes with one hand, "oh my god what are you doing here?"    
            "I thought we agreed you'd have your phone with you.  Especially since I spent $300 on it."    
            "Phone," Stiles echoed blankly, yelping when he was yanked up by his shoulder.  "Phone phone," he deliberately avoided looking at his father's face.  "It might be in my jeep?"  Obviously unimpressed Stiles' father grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt before yanking him back out of the bedroom.  Stiles giggled, which he would probably feel bad about later, and fell into his father's side.    
            "If you've been drinking you'd better not be driving," his father yelled as they descended the stairs.  Stiles was glad his fellow teenagers were too terrified to laugh at him.  "And you're all lucky I only have three pairs of handcuffs."  They gave him an even wider berth after that announcement.  No amount of whining and pouting did Stiles any good.  He rode home in the back of the cruiser. 

Stiles' father not only made sure to plug Stiles' phone in right next to his bed for him, he also dragged him back out of bed the next morning before Stiles even had a chance to throw up in the bathroom.    
            "Sit," his father ordered, pushing him towards the sofa.  Eyes mostly closed and one hand pressed to his forehead Stiles whined and collapsed onto it.  He fell over and buried his head in the cushions when his father whistled so loud Stiles swore his ear drums were splitting.  "This is Augustus," his father told him.  Stiles cracked open one eye to take in a huge German Shepherd.  
            "Okay?" he managed voice cracking over the word.    
            "Congratulations I finally got you a dog."    
            "Uh…" Stiles swallowed nervously watching the way Augustus was staring at him attentively.  He didn't think a single muscle in the dog's body was twitching.  "I'm pretty sure I wanted a puppy…when I was six…"    
            "Augustus is better than a puppy," his father told him, "I'll teach you the attack commands tonight."  He slid his sunglasses on.  "Also you're grounded.  I wouldn't suggest trying to leave the house."  Stiles and Augustus had a staring contest for what felt like a month before Stiles finally tried to sneak off the couch, falling twice on the way.  He hurried up the steps, slamming his bedroom door behind him.  Two parts pain and one part proud Stiles stumbled to the bed and collapsed back into it.  His breath caught as the door opened, Augustus stopping to close it with a paw before crossing to his bed deliberately and curling on the floor.    
            "Oh my god you're a ninja dog," Stiles exhaled, pulling a pillow tight into his arms.

Scott didn't even feel bad for him.  Worst best friend ever.    
            "I _told_ you going to that party was a bad idea."  Stiles scoffed.  
            "Like you wouldn't have been there if you didn't have to work.  Plus Lydia invited me herself okay if I didn't go that would be like snubbing the entire aristocracy of our high school.  Do you _want_ to be banished back to unknown loserdom?"    
            "Dude you hate the attention."  Stiles scoffed again, a bit more quietly.  
            "I don't hate it.  It's a good distraction."  Scott was silent a long moment.  
            "I'm a good distraction," he added petulantly.  Stiles' lips curled.  
            "You know you are but you can't be attached to my side 24/7."    
            "We'd be the best Siamese twins ever."  
            "Or the worst.  I'd probably trip in a lake and drown both of us."    
            "You sound depressed," Scott said, "I'm coming over."    
            "You can’t.  This dog is like…scary sentient."    
            "Sentiwhat?"    
            "He's really smart!  And my dad said attack commands, what if he attacks you?"    
            "I'll sneak in the window."  
            "Were you not listening?" Stiles demanded, "He opened my bedroom door _himself_.  He let himself out to pee!"    
            "Well why didn't you just lock him out?"  Stiles' jaw worked, no words coming out.  He paced a few steps in his room, pretending Augustus wasn't watching him do it.  "You didn't think of it, did you?" Scott asked, entirely too amused.    
            "I was in shock," Stiles defended.  His eyes fell on the orange bottles on his nightstand and he paused, a quiet, "Huh," falling out.    
            "What now?"    
            "I didn't take my sleeping pill last night." 

Scott was silent a few beats.  
            "Is that a good thing?" he finally risked.    
            "Don't know.  At least alcohol is a good substitute I guess."    
            "You shouldn't fall asleep drunk; alcohol lowers your breathing rate."    
            "Well I'm fine," Stiles said slowly, mind already trailing off.    
            "I know that tone," Scott sighed, "Call me back later."    
            "Mm," Stiles managed, finger swiping to end the call.  He hadn't taken a sleeping pill going back to bed this morning either.  He paced across his room again.  The calendar almost seemed to taunt him.  The bond between him and Derek had ended a while ago.  But he hadn't been able to sleep without medication since he got home.  So what had changed?  The alcohol was enough to put him under, maybe.  He hadn't been blackout drunk, still remembered everything that happened with a clarity he wished he didn't have.  And then this morning, it would have been making its way out of his system.  It didn't make sense.  Unless he just didn't need the medication anymore?  He wasn't sure how he felt about that theory at all.  But nothing else really seemed to make sense.  Nothing that he knew of had changed.  It hadn't been anxiety keeping him up at night.  Things were still weird but for the most part they'd gotten back to normal.  He had to start attending summer school soon to make up for the missed time and yeah people were still up his ass asking questions about the cult.  Even though he had made it perfectly clear that outside the station he wasn't allowed to talk about it.  His father had submitted an official report to the FBI and the town of Beacon Hills had wiped their hands of the investigation.  Lack of jurisdiction and all that.  Though the laws had never really worked out so well in their favor before.  They'd already been told that since Stiles wasn't even sure what state the cult was in the FBI wouldn't be able to do much.  Perfectly fine with Stiles. 

Five hours later his dad was home and he still didn't have an answer.  He'd never been able to find a good source on werewolves and adding the word mate to the search certainly had not helped.  Not that he was even sure this had to do with Derek.  Still he just sort of had a feeling.  One that he did not want to dwell on.      
            "This dog is super creepy," he muttered when his dad knocked and cracked his door open.  His father looked nonplussed by the assessment.    
            "If you'd been responsible for your phone we wouldn't have to do this."    
            "Dad come on what are the chances I'm going to get kidnapped by werewolves again I mean really?"    
            "I'm not dignifying that with a response.  Pizza for dinner?"    
            "Shouldn't I get brownie points for telling you the truth?"    
            "Son I lied to the FBI.  Any brownie points you had have been used.  In fact you're in debt.  So I'm ordering pizza _and_ wings."    
            "What!  Dad no, eating yourself to an early grave is punishing you more than me."  His father shrugged and popped open the button of his collar.  
            "Look at it this way if the FBI shoots me it won't have mattered."  Stiles' mouth flapped open.  
            "That is not funny.  That is so not funny I am not even admitting to being related to you anymore.  I'm adopted from now on.  Our senses of humor cannot possibly be from the same gene pool I refuse."    
            "Calm down before you have a conniption.  They'd never believe the truth anyways."  His father snapped the door closed and headed back downstairs.  Stiles looked to Augustus, who had invited himself into Stiles' bed.    
            "He's in danger.  Go.  Stop him."  Unsurprisingly, the dog didn't move.  "Oh I get it you're not really my dog, you're just a spy.  Awesome." 

..

In one day with Augustus Stiles learned three things.  Augustus was _very_ well trained.  Like he could seriously be scary.  He did not appreciate Stiles dubbing him Gus Gus or sometimes just Gus.  Not at all.  But he still answered to it.  He also listened to the sheriff over Stiles.  It could be his training or it could be the fact that Stiles insisted on calling him Gus Gus.  Stiles didn't really care _why_ he just wished it would stop.  Also Stiles was now allowed to leave the house, as long as he took Gus along.  Scott was about as pleased as Stiles was the Gus wouldn't relinquish shotgun when they picked him up.    
            "Dude this sucks," Scott said, leaning forward and immediately shooting back as Gus bared his teeth.        
            "He wants you to buckle up," Stiles sighed, "and I have to go to school tomorrow.  Tell me how much _that_ sucks."    
            "I am not buckling up because your dog told me to Jesus."  It was entirely disconcerting how slowly Gus turned to look at Scott.  "Make him stop," Scott hissed.    
            "Gus, stop," Stiles said, trying to sound commanding.  The dog didn't move, at all.  "Gus Gus!"  Still nothing.  Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose.  "Just buckle up.  Please."    
            "Stupid," Scott muttered.  His seatbelt clicked into place and Gus turned back around.

.. 

Stiles hesitated again, hanging on the edge of his Jeep.    
            "Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"  He ran a hand over his head.  "Gah I just feel bad leaving you here man, it's like…eighty five degrees.  What if you tip over your water bowl and get thirsty?"  Gus looked unimpressed.  "Fine what if you spill the water and wreck my car?"  He woofed softly.  Stiles nearly fell over in shock.  "Well but I'm gonna be in there like five hours!  Are you sure?"    
            "Mr. Stilinski!  Are you expecting that dog to talk back?"  Stiles' hand found its way to the back of his neck.  
            "Uh…no Mrs. Carter…course not I just…he's very smart," he finished lamely.    
            "You'd better not be late because you're out here chatting with a dog!" she yelled before disappearing inside the building.  Stiles took a few moments to sulk appropriately.    
            "Fine but I don't want to hear any complaints later," he finally mumbled.  Gus lay down across both seats, not even looking up at him.  Stiles finally made his way into the building, muttering about bad attitudes along the way. 

He tried to pay attention.  Really he did.  But it was school.  He couldn't keep still in his seat.  After the eleventh time the teacher told him to stop tapping his pen she asked if he'd like to take the reading material home with him.  Stiles tried not to nod too eagerly.  Because of all the material he'd missed they set him up with one teacher to give him every subject.  Stiles couldn't help but think if this was day one they were going to have a very good relationship.  Stiles could read and research like nobody's business.  He just had to be comfortable to do it.  Sitting in a desk, in relative silence was not comfortable.  At all.  He was in such a good mood leaving school he all but danced, freezing in an awkward position when he saw a guy sitting on the hood of his Jeep as if he owned it. 

Stiles crossed to him slowly, wondering why Gus hadn't scared him off.    
            "Uh," he let out, "you're sitting on my car."  He grinned and leaned back on his hands in response.  
            "I know."    
            "Okay…"  Gus sat up, watching both of them through the windshield.  Stiles felt oddly betrayed.  "Why are you sitting on my car?" Stiles questioned finally.    
            "I wanted to meet you," he said, pushing off the car and all but bounding through the remaining space between them.    
            "Well now we've-" Stiles cut off as the guy hugged him, really just grabbed him and hugged him, like he had the right to.    
            "Yeah," he said after inhaling deeply, "you're the right one."  Stiles tensed and really when had he even relaxed?  _Not cool body.  Not cool_.    
            "Did you just sniff me," he exhaled.    
            "Stiles," he said, pulling back and offering his hand.  Stiles watched him warily.  He grinned in response.  "I'm Aaron."  As if _that_ explained anything.  But maybe it did.  There was an odd feeling creeping over him, several things clicking into place just as Aaron said, "Aaron Hale."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a crap ton of scenes that I cut. 
> 
> Seriously so many.
> 
> This is me trying to keep the story moving ahaha.
> 
> If there's a scene you'd really like to see that I skipped over hit me up [ here. ](http://annber.tumblr.com/ask)  
> I'll see what I can do.
> 
> (Also I know ppl weren't loving Stiles telling his dad the truth but in this AU Stiles doesn't have a basis for actually lying to his dad and he hasn't seen him in so long and it just didn't feel right. Anyways.)
> 
> I always try to predict what you guys are going to comment on and I am _never_ right. Omg. 
> 
> Thank you all for still sticking this out with me!


	23. I Take it from His Whisper

            " _Hale?_ " Stiles demanded at a pitch that hurt his ears.  He looked around the parking lot almost desperately.  "This isn't-you're-what?"   
            "You're not going to faint are you?" Aaron asked, grinning at him.   
Stiles gaped, wondering if he'd actually gone insane.  He didn't really look like Derek, he was _blonde_ for god's sakes, but Stiles thought he could kind of see it.  The eyebrows.  The jaw.  Maybe he took more after his mother or something.  Stiles frowned momentarily.  Or his father.  He didn't really know, obviously.   
            "Is this real?" he finally sputtered.   
Aaron laughed, loudly.   
Stiles tried not to scowl in response.   
            "Course it's real, you think you could imagine this?"   
            "You're part of Derek's pack," Stiles exhaled softly.   
Aaron nodded, lips still curled.   
            "Mm."   
            "Can we hug again?"  Aaron's teeth were showing in a grin just like that.  
            "Yeah."  His arms wrapped around Stiles again, cheek tucking to his shoulder.   
Stiles' hands curled in Aaron's jacket and he breathed out slowly.  This felt really good.  In a way he couldn't understand, didn't really want to.   
            "You give really good hugs," he sighed, finally forcing himself to pull away.   
            "I'm pack," Aaron was smiling again.  "It's in my DNA."   
            "But I'm not-" he cut off to swallow and breathe again, "Derek and I aren't bonded anymore.  I'm not pack."   
            "The hell you're not.  You were pack.  You _are_ pack."   
The words hit Stiles oddly, latching into his chest and pressing deep.  
            "I didn't ah…"  He was weirdly flattered and stupidly happy.  "I wasn't aware that was how it worked."  
            "We're kind of stubborn like that."   
            "Is he okay?" Stiles asked, changing the subject without fully intending it.  There were so many questions suddenly filling his mind but somehow this seemed the most important. 

Aaron watched him a long moment.   
            "We have plenty of time to talk.  I want to talk about you first.  If you don't mind."   
            "Did something happen?  He's not hurt?"   
Wow okay he went from zero to call life alert in two seconds.   
            "Stiles he's fine," Aaron said, eyes softening momentarily.  "Where can we go to talk?  Is there a restaurant you like?"   
            "You want to talk about werewolves in public?"   
Aaron's lips curled again and Stiles was going to start a tally against his will, he could feel it.  
            "No I want to talk about you in public.  Plus shouldn't you be a bit cautious?"   
It took Stiles too long to realize he was teasing.  He huffed an irritated breath.  
            "Cautious enough not to be seen in public with a stranger yeah.  Woods or my house?"   
            "Inviting me to your house?  You like to live on edge don't you?"   
            "You're a werewolf.  You'd be able to track my scent anyways wouldn't you?" Stiles demanded, tone shifting towards incredulous.   
Aaron held both hands up in front of him.  
            "Caught me.  Are you going to have your father arrest me?"   
            "You're kind of an asshole," Stiles told him seriously.   
            "You don't even know me," Aaron tsked quietly.   
            "Yeah well.  First impression: asshole."   
            "Feisty.  Must have been good for Derek," he tacked on thoughtfully.   
            "Pretty sure he fantasized about killing me multiple times," Stiles offered with a bright smile.   
            "He did."   
Stiles scowled again.  
            "Asshole."   
Aaron's smirk was completely unrepentant.   
            "You sure you want to be alone with me after calling me an asshole?"  
            "Hey I have a vicious guard dog," Stiles announced, trying to remember which command that meant maim but don't kill.   
Aaron's smirk only grew as his eyes flashed blue.   
            "I'm terrified." 

Gus' tail was wagging as they made their way inside.  His dog, _his_ dog, liked Aaron better.  In fact Gus wasn't even acting like Gus.  It was like he was high on acid or something.   
            "No seriously, did you drug my dog?"   
            "Just so you know, the fact that you think I have to is insulting," Aaron told him, heading for the stairs.   
            "Hey," Stiles called after him, not really surprised when he was ignored.  The resemblance was a bit easier to see now.  "I don't recall saying we were doing this in my room," he muttered, sure Aaron was listening.  By the time he made it up to his room Aaron had already unpinned both his posters, tacks left abandoned on a corner of Stiles' desk.  "Hey!" he protested, probably too loudly, "Not cool man!"   
            "I was trying to figure out why they smelled so much like you," Aaron murmured, pushing Stiles away when he tried to fix them.  "Why your scent would be so concentrated at the corners of them, what would make you touch them again and again…but now it makes sense."   
Stiles huffed, ignoring the fact that he was blushing hotly.   
On the back of each poster were pictures of him and Derek, taped securely.   
            "You got back before I could actually investigate," Aaron added.   
Stiles' eyes widened as realization hit.  
            "You were here before?  Without my permission?  Oh my god."   
            "It's a good hiding spot," Aaron told him, completely ignoring the accusations.  "I guess you'd have to be pretty good at hiding things, being a cop's kid."   
            "Just say what you really mean," Stiles scoffed, "you've already been through my private possessions.  _Private_.  In my room.  _My roo-_ "  
            "Is the emphasis supposed to make me feel worse?" Aaron cut him off, eyebrows lifted slightly.   
Stiles narrowed his eyes while violently thinking _asshole_.   
            "Yes actually.  But you obviously have no sense of decency so just say what you actually want to say."   
            "I don't trust you," Aaron said bluntly.  "I want to," he added after a moment, "but I don't." 

Stiles sort of deflated at that.  
            "Oh," he let out.  There were a few moments of silence before he crossed to his bed and sat slowly.  "Well that's…" but he drifted, unsure how to finish the sentence.   
            "That's why I'm here."  
Stiles stared at him blankly.  
            "Okay?"  
            "Do you love him?"  Aaron glanced to the exposed pictures.  "Or was it fleeting?  The human in you?"   
            "You make it sound like an insult," Stiles had to look away, doubt swamping him.  
Did he love Derek?  Really love him?  He missed him like crazy but that was the easy answer.  
Aaron stayed quiet, letting him think, and Stiles finally met his eyes again.  
            "How am I supposed to know?  I think I love him.  I feel like I do.  But how do I know?  How am I really supposed to know?  What if I love him but I'm not right for him?  What if we only wanted each other so bad because we couldn't have each other?  What if there's some super hot werewolf who's perfectly perfect for him and I'm just…"  
His fingertips dug into his scalp and he forced himself to breathe.  
Aaron dropped into the desk chair and wheeled it a few inches closer.  
            "It's good that you're worried about this Stiles.  It's even better that you're worried about Derek over yourself.  I can see why Peter likes you."  
He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced to the screen.  
            "Should we try something?"  
Stiles wasn't sure if he liked the expression on Aaron's face.  
            "Would it really matter if I said no?"   
            "Not really," Aaron admitted, grinning.  
Stiles was briefly reminded of a demonic cherub.  _Asshole.  Asshole!!!  Better_ , Stiles thought, oddly satisfied. 

Aaron's phone was suddenly ringing, laid flat in the palm of his hand.  
Stiles' heart found its way to his throat and he couldn't swallow around it.  
            "Hello?"  
            "Hey Mom," Aaron said easily.  
            "Aaron," she returned.  "How are…things?"  
            "Good.  Very good."   
Aaron shot Stiles a wink, as if they were sharing a joke.  
            "Hey is Derek around?"  
            "Mmhmm.  Wanna talk to him?"  
            "Please."   
Stiles was gripping the edge of the mattress as if it was all that was keeping him from shooting right into the atmosphere.  _Holy fuck_.  Aaron was the devil.  He could hear Aaron's mother calling for Derek and he wanted to die.  
            "Hey Bro.  How's life as a hobo?"  
Aaron rolled his eyes and smiled simultaneously.   
Stiles couldn't move at all.  
            "Traveling is good for the soul, you should try it sometime."  
            "And being away from pack for the first time?" Derek questioned where Stiles expected a pause.   
            "I have pack with me," Aaron told him, "always."  
            "Yeah I suppose you're right."  
            "You sound better."   
            "Yeah," Derek said.  "It's getting easier.  Curt says I'm a natural."   
            "That's not exactly what I meant but alright."  
            "I still prefer hand to hand.  Landon thinks I'm insane."   
Stiles was utterly lost in the conversation but he couldn't care less.  _Derek_.  And he sounded so _good_.   
Aaron paused and it seemed deliberate.  From what Stiles knew of him, it was.  
            "The nightmares?"   
Stiles' stomach twisted violently.   
            "They're better.  Sort of."   
Aaron hummed.  
            "I just worry about him."  
            "I know."  
            "It's better this way," Derek murmured.  
But he didn't sound like he meant it.  
            "At least he's safe," he added, sounding steadier.   
 _Oh my god.  
Me.  
He's having nightmares about _ me _._  
Stiles didn't know how to deal with that.  He was suddenly thankful he hadn't been dreaming.  Or at least not remembering if he was.    

            "Things will get better," Aaron said.   
Derek laughed quietly and quickly.  
            "Yeah I know.  Everyone keeps telling me anyways."   
Aaron smiled at Stiles again.   
Stiles flopped backwards on the mattress.   
            "Well then it must be true."   
Derek was silent again.  
            "Yeah," he agreed softly.  "Well Will and I are going for a run.  I'll talk to you later?"   
            "Mm.  I'll be home soon."  
            "Good.  Here's Mom.  Bye Aaron."   
            "Bye Derek."   
            "So how is the weather there?"   
            "You know," Aaron said, pushing out of the chair and dropping down next to Stiles, "weather."   
            "Groundbreaking report."  There were a few beats of silence and Aaron's mother started humming softly.   
Aaron didn't say anything, lips curled softly.  
Stiles tried to blink away the tears that had gathered.  It didn't work.     
            "Okay, we're good."   
            "He's crying Mom."  
Horrified, Stiles swiped at his cheeks.  He kicked at Aaron, glaring when his attack was dodged easily.   
            "Hello Stiles," she offered warmly.   
He managed a dignified sniffle in response.  
            "Is it too early to say welcome to the family?"   
            "I don't understand what's happening," he admitted, tone petulant.   
            "Well it takes a little while to get things sorted from across the country."   
            "But Derek doesn't know Aaron is here?"   
            "No.  He wouldn't have agreed to it."   
More tears leaked out stubbornly. 

            "He loves you."  How a woman he'd never met could sense his distress over the phone Stiles had no idea.  "But he believes he can't keep you safe.  He still has things to learn.  He's still young in so many ways."   
Aaron's fingertips found the back of Stiles' hand, tracing lines.   
            "So is this like…you're trying to get us back together?"  Damn that was hope in his voice.  Just that fast.   
            "I don't want you to worry Stiles.  Everything is going to work out just fine."   
            "I'm not worrying," he lied, "is that a yes?"   
            "You love each other."   
Somehow he had the feeling that was as much of a direct answer as he was going to get.   
            "You don't know us, so I know this is hard but I want you to trust me Stiles."   
            "Okay," he agreed softly.  Really what else was there to say?  "What's going to happen?"   
            "Well Aaron has a few issues to smooth over.  Once he's done with that it should all be very easy."    
            "Easy," Stiles echoed.   
            "It's a good thing Derek is past his snooping years," she offered with a chuckle.   
            "I don't understand," Stiles repeated, tears finally slowing.   
            "Well you know what they say about putting the cart before the horse don't you Stiles?"   
Stiles turned enough to glare at the phone.  He couldn't decide if Mama Hale was a saint or a demon.   
            "Yes," he finally said dutifully.   
            "Everything will be alright."   
            "If you say so."   
He swiped over his cheeks again, sniffling quickly. 

Stiles only half listened as Aaron and Mama Hale said their goodbyes.  Nothing more about what they were planning was said.   
Stiles realized slowly he was barely more in the loop than Derek.   
            "You still have some time to make your decision," Aaron said eventually, still tracing along Stiles' wrist and hand.  "It's a little late to back out," he offered with a half smile, "but you still can.  If you want."   
            "After all this?  Doesn't really seem possible."   
            "Yeah I know what you mean."   
            "When are you leaving?"  
            "Should be day after tomorrow.  You might have to start those up again once I'm gone," Aaron said, gesturing vaguely to Stiles' pills.   
            "How long were you spying on me?" Stiles demanded sharply, eyes wide.   
            "Admittedly listening to you and Danny at the party might have led to my mistrust of you."   
Stiles yanked his hand away, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.   
            "You are such an asshole," he reaffirmed.   
            "Well I'd just gotten to town," Aaron muttered, "so naturally tracking your scent was the first thing I did.  Not my fault I got let in."   
            "Fuck you I was drunk."   
            "You said you were buzzed," Aaron pointed out.  
            "You and Derek have other brothers right?"   
            "Yeah, why?"   
            "Because I'd like to like someone in this family other than Derek."   
            "Shut up you'll love me."   
            "I doubt it."   
            "You'll have to love me," Aaron told him smugly.  "This is a full family operation right now.  No me, no Derek."   
            "Yet you're here and Derek isn't."   
Aaron's smile didn't waiver.  
            "I'm going to enjoy making you eat your words Stiles." 

Stiles was left with no response but sticking out his tongue.  His stomach had been fluttering but now it was apparently entering panic mode and gurgling quite painfully.  What if this was actually going to happen?  What if he was going to see Derek again?  What if they got to be together?  He inhaled, throat clenching and eyes widening as his air cut off.  It took two seconds for him to relax enough to breathe again.  His hands were shaking and he curled his fingers slowly.  There was no reason to freak out.  Nothing was for sure.  There hadn't even been anything but hints so far.  Absolutely no reason to start panicking.  Or to get his hopes up.  The breath he'd just managed leaked back out slowly.  That was the downside he supposed.   
            "Are you alright?"   
Stiles made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat.   
            "What are you afraid of?" Aaron asked after another moment.   
            "Everything," Stiles admitted, words pushing right out of his mouth, "I'm scared I'll see him again.  But I'm scared I won't.  I'm scared it will be just like before.  Or that it won't.  That it will be worse or even better.  And I don't even know what I'm the most afraid of."  He sucked in a quick breath.  "And then sometimes I tend to talk too much, especially when I'm freaking out, and I sort of forget to breathe and then I have these panic attacks and yeah."  He forced his lips closed, slapping a hand over them.   
Aaron slid closer to him, snaking an arm beneath his neck and pulling him closer by the shoulders.   
Some of the panic melted away and Stiles sighed.  
            "How did you do that?"   
            "I consider you pack Stiles.  On some level you can read that.  It makes you feel safe."   
            "Thought you didn't trust me."   
            "I just had to be sure.  We protect our own Stiles."  
Stiles sighed and let his eyes close.  
            "That's good," he exhaled.  
            "Everything is going to work out," Aaron told him.             

 

…

 

Derek was spending more time by Laura's tree than anywhere else lately.  A few times he'd even fallen asleep under it.  Mostly the rest of his family just left him to it.  Derek didn't mind the quiet.  Everyone had things to do, their own place in the pack.  Just because he hadn't found his place yet didn't mean anything.  He'd find something.   
His mind drifted to Aaron for a minute and he smiled softly.  He wondered if his brother was having a good time on his trip.  Derek couldn't really complain, it was his shitty timing coming home.  Aaron had been planning this trip for over a year now.  Not that even he knew where he was going to end up.  It was just an exploration of sorts.   
Derek would be worried, if he hadn't lost three of five drills to his baby brother.  Aaron just had a knack for knowing exactly when Derek was going in for the kill.  Curtis had assured him that he wasn't the only one Aaron could do it to and it comforted Derek more than it should have.   
Getting away from the pack would be good for him.  It wasn't odd for young wolves to leave home for a bit before they settled down.  If Curtis wasn't so ingrained in the pack Derek was sure he would have done it too.  By the wistful look on Will's face, he wanted it as well.   
Derek wondered if he would have been excited about it if Laura had never died.  If he hadn't felt like he _needed_ to leave.  But he didn't let himself think about very long.  It wouldn't do any good anyway.   
He did what he'd learned to do when he was tired of sitting still.  He went to the clearing and grabbed some weapons to work with.  Maybe it should worry him that it was beginning to soothe him rather than push him off balance.  He wasn't going to think about that yet.

Amelia was a hellion.  On some level Derek had already known that.  But she'd sink her knife into spots she knew for a fact were still healing.  Repeatedly.   
            "What did I do to make you so angry with me?" Derek groaned, rubbing at a spot just under his arm.   
Amelia all but snarled, spinning a knife in her fingers.   
Derek jumped back as she took a step forward.  
            "I think I'm moving to target practice now."   
He'd just notched the bolt in a crossbow when Amelia sighed.   
            "There's this boy," she allowed.   
Derek fired before glancing to her.   
            "This boy?"   
            "He won't make a move," she said next.   
Derek tugged another arrow from the bucket.  
            "Why not?"   
Amelia launched one of her daggers into the target he was already using.  
            "He's scared of me."  
Derek took a long look at the target.  
            "I wonder why that is," he murmured finally.  
Amelia glared at him before throwing again.  
Derek winced as the blade split the shaft still sticking out.  
            "The point is," she continued, "he's intimidated and it's ridiculous."   
            "Well," Derek stalled, wondering why she was talking to _him_ about this.  "You could kill him with one hand huh?"  
            "And Dad's the Alpha.  Not to mention Curtis is already like Alpha Jr."  
She huffed before pushing off the ground and moving into the shed.  Barely a minute had passed before she returned with a bow and arrows.  
            "I'm never going to get laid," she said casually, making Derek miss his target completely.  
            "Amelia," he groaned.  
            "What?" she fired two arrows rapidly before turning to look at him.  "It's not like I'm expected to get married first."

Derek sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.  
            "It's not about sex."  
Amelia groaned.  
            " _Please_ don't go all alpha male on me Derek I need a cool older brother!  One I can talk to!  Come on!"  
Derek bit his tongue to keep from suggesting Aaron.  Even if he was here he'd never take it seriously.  
            "Plus you've already been mated.  To a boy.  Where there was a power imbalance.  You're the best person for me to talk to."  
Derek's hand tightened on the stock of the crossbow.  
            "It didn't work out," he reminded her darkly.  
            "Extenuating circumstances," Amelia brushed off, lifting another arrow to her bow.   
Derek was silent and for several minutes the only sounds were each of them firing into their targets.   
            "I didn't really…know what I was doing," he said finally.  "My wolf made the decision for me and then I just kind of had to stumble along.  Fly blind."   
            "If I wolfed out he'd probably wet himself," Amelia muttered bitterly.   
            "Stiles wasn't scared of me."   
Amelia stopped, turning to him.  
            "Even though he should have been," Derek continued, pulling the trigger with more force than was necessary.  "A human not afraid of a werewolf…I can't even understand it.  He's such an idiot."  He laughed but it sounded wrong and he had to stop to catch his breath.   
            "But how did you get him to not be scared of you?"   
            "We're not talking about that," Derek gritted out.   
            "Are you blushing?  Oh my god, you are!"

Derek growled quickly before gritting his teeth again.  He dropped the crossbow to the ground, stalking towards the target.   
            "Wait, okay, okay, I'm sorry.  I take it back."  She caught his arm, fingers curling.  "I'm sorry Derek I am.  You can talk to me about this stuff.  I won't tease you."   
            "I still don't know how you know about Stiles in the first place."  He pulled out arrows with his free hand, offering Amelia her daggers before throwing the ruined arrow to the ground.   
Amelia's hand fell away as she took them, sliding them into the holder on her forearm.   
            "Well you told Will," she said hesitantly, "and then I maybe overheard Will telling Aaron."  
Derek frowned again.   
            "And how did you manage to overhear?"   
            "I can be sneaky," she defended, fingertips drifting over the hilt of a dagger.   
            "I'm well aware."  After several pressing moments of silence Amelia sighed.  
            "I'm sorry okay?  I just knew you wouldn't tell me yourself because you and I have never been close like you and Will and I just want to help you Derek.  I want to know what happened while you were gone.  I want you to be okay and I want you to be happy and I love you.  And if you love Stiles I want to know about him too because he's a part of you now and it's important."  She fidgeted uncomfortably when she was done and Derek couldn't help a quiet sigh.   
            "I would have preferred you just asking me yourself."   
            "Well," Amelia hesitated, "now I am."    

They talked for nearly two hours, lying next to each other in the grass and weapons abandoned a few feet away.  
            "But if he wants to be with you and you want to be with him then why can't you be together?"   
            "Because he's human and his father lives in on the West Coast," Derek explained again, sighing internally.   
            "And it's not safe for you to go live with him," Amelia added.  
            "Yes."   
            "Even though you could kill anyone that tried to hurt him?"   
Derek tensed slowly, eyes inching open.  It wasn't that the statement bothered him.  It was the opposite.  Derek knew without a doubt that if anyone hurt Stiles, if they tried, he would have no problem taking them apart.   
            "I'm not enough," he dismissed finally.  "I can't be with him all the time.  I can only protect him from so much."   
            "But you want to be with him," Amelia pressed.   
            "And what if I decide to go be with him, do everything I can to protect him and miss one single minute where something happens to him?  What if I'm the reason he dies?"  His teeth click together and for several long moments he can't say anything.  "I already went through that," he managed, barely.  "If I had to again it would kill me."   
            "But what if he came here?"   
Derek closed his eyes again, lips curling.   
            "That would be…everything I could ask for."   
            "Maybe he'd be willing to.  What if?"   
            "He still has his father.  High school.  College.  A career."   
            "So maybe it will happen.  Just not now.  Don't give up."   
            "Shouldn't I be telling you that?"    

It didn't take long to clean up the clearing together and they made it home just in time to snag some of the food Curtis had brought.  It hardly took any time for Will to join them on the couch and Derek felt lighter and pulled closer at the same time.  For the first time since returning home he went to bed on his own, trying to shake the nerves rattling around in his chest.  Everything would be fine.  He just had to keep reminding himself of that. 

He shouldn't have been surprised; maybe he wasn't really, when Will shook him awake a few hours later.  
He sighed and sat up.  
            "Thanks," he let out.   
Will nodded, stepping further into the room.   
            "I think I'm going to go see Laura," Derek said, making him pause.   
            "Alone?"  
He nodded.  
            "You sure?"  
            "Yeah."  
Slipping from the bed he moved around Will to pull on jeans and a shirt.   
            "Derek just…you're okay right?"   
            "It wasn't anything I haven't seen before."  
            "You want me to wait up?"  
            "I don't know how long I'll be gone." 

He didn't let his wolf out, not that it wanted to come, curled in some deep corner of him.  Instead he walked through the trees on two feet, picking between roots carefully.  By the time he actually got to the tree that marked Laura's grave he was markedly calmer.  He sat down carefully and sighed, letting his head rest against the bark.   
            "I wish I could talk to you, just one last time."  
Finally admitting it out loud released a weight in Derek's chest and before he knew it more words were pouring out.   
            "I'm so sorry Laura.  I'm sorry I couldn't save you.  I'm sorry I blamed myself for so long.  Dad's right.  You would have smacked me and told me to stop being an idiot.  But you weren't there and I couldn't deal with it and I'm sorry for that too."   
His fingertips pressed tight to his eyelids and came away damp.  
            "I wonder what you would say if you were here.  How much smarter you'd be now that you're older.  God you'd probably give Curt a run for his money."  He let out what was almost a laugh, too hollow.  "I miss you," he exhaled then.  "God I miss you so much."   
He inhaled quickly, slightly alarmed by the sniffling sound, and swiped at his eyes.  He hadn't cried in a long time.   
He stayed until he was breathing normally again, surprised at how much better he felt. 

His walk back home was at the same reserved pace and by the time he climbed up to the porch he was ready to climb back in bed and sleep for a good while.   
            "Wipe your feet," his mother called as he stepped through the door.   
Lips curling, Derek paused to do as he was told.  
            "What are you doing up?"   
His mother was on the couch, one lamp beside her turned on, papers scatted across the coffee table.  
            "I heard you leave," she explained, glancing to him.  "Thought I'd look over some stuff while I had time."   
            "Stuff?"   
            "We're looking into some property."   
            "Sounds boring," he admitted, leaning in the doorway.   
            "Yes well it doesn't exactly thrill me either.  We do things we don't necessarily like all the time.  I know you already know that."   
She set down the sheet of paper she'd been holding and stood, crossing to him before running her fingers through his hair and stretching up to kiss his brow.  
Derek smiled as he had to bend his neck to help her get there.   
            "How would you feel about going to look at it when everything goes through?"   
His mouth fell open just a bit in shock.  
            "Um.  Yeah, sure.  Where is it?"   
She smiled and lifted one shoulder in a shrug.  
            "Oh…west of here."   
            "Okay."   
            "You should get some sleep Honey."   
With a pat to his cheek she went back to the couch, picking up a different paper.  
            "Well goodnight," Derek offered, half thinking he should sit and look at papers with her.  He was really just too tired to look at a bunch of paperwork over a property purchase or transfer or negotiation.  Whatever it even was.  His luck it was somehow all three at once.   
            "Goodnight," she returned, still looking at the paper.   
Derek shook his head once before stepping back.  He'd worry more about this property later.   
Climbing the stairs Derek wondered how big it was.  Maybe they'd need to add a guard to the perimeter just to get around it.  He paused before stifling a yawn.  He'd ask tomorrow.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope the new formatting is better!
> 
> I think I'm okay with it? 
> 
> Anyways readability is most important so I'm shutting up about that. 
> 
> I feel I should mention that yes Derek knows Stiles is from California. He doesn't know he's from Beacon Hills.
> 
> Also I love the Hales.
> 
> I think you guys can see where this is heading.. :)


	24. You're Not that Tough

Aaron left four weeks ago.  Stiles was trying not to think about it but really how could he not?  Whenever he wasn't directly thinking about anything…at least one Hale would sneak right into his thoughts.  Stiles had learned by now that they were both fairly persistent.  Bastards.    
And he'd just finished his final makeup exam.  What was he supposed to do now?    
Stiles hung around the parking lot much longer than he would admit to…ever.  What he was expecting he wasn't exactly sure.  But shouldn't Aaron just pop up again, like he had last time?  Where the hell was he?  Stiles hauled himself up into his jeep, patting Gus' head halfheartedly.    
            "Well let's hope I passed right?"  Gus shoved his head and both front paws into Stiles' lap before settling in and sighing.  "Thanks for the support Buddy."    
He waited another handful of minutes before driving home.

Of course, his father being the sheriff, he noticed immediately that Stiles was still moping.  Apparently it had reached a new low because now he decided to comment on it.  
            "Stiles I'm here if you want to talk."    
Stiles deflated even further, chin nearly falling into his spaghetti.    
            "Is this about him?"    
Stiles nodded slowly.    
            "Now that you're done with school it's harder huh?"    
Stiles took a deep breath, embarrassed to feel himself choking up.  He nodded again.  
            "Yeah," his father agreed, "it's hard learning to be alone again."    
            "Yeah," Stiles agreed quietly.    
What was hardest was not knowing what was happening.  Were things still in the works?  What even _had_ been in the works?  Had it fallen through?  Was Aaron never coming back?  Was he not allowed to come back?    
Should Stiles keep hoping?  Did he have another option?    
            "It doesn't get easier.  Not really.  But you're so young Stiles.  You'll find someone else.  I know you're not meant to be alone for the rest of your life."    
            "You're not meant to be alone for the rest of your life either Dad."    
The words were out before Stiles could catch them and his father looked stricken.    
            "I just mean…if you're ever ready…I wouldn't be opposed to it."    
His cheeks were burning and he spun his fork in his pasta as a quick distraction.  
            "I want you to be happy," he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the spinning red noodles.    
            "I want you to be happy too Son," his father finally returned, voice oddly soft.    
Stiles had the sudden urge to hug his father so, stumbling from his chair, he did. 

 

…

 

To say the least Derek was not in a good mood.  In fact he was barely keeping it together.  It all started when his mother revealed that _out west_ was actually the furthest fucking west west could be without hitting the ocean.  California.  _California_.  They were locked into a contract to send half a unit to _California_ for at least six months.  _At least_.  Derek hadn't even known what he was agreeing to and his mother knew he hadn't known.  He gritted his teeth, barely holding a snarl in.    
But he was driving alone again.  Day three on the road found him back in his own car, Curtis, Matt, Grace, and Devon grouped together in one truck, Landon, Eden, and Henry were in the second.    
It wasn't that Derek didn't want to ride with them.  
It was that they didn't want to ride with him.    
Not to mention Devon was from Texas and loved country music.  There was only so much Derek could take.    
But he still didn't understand why they were being sent across the country.    
And he wasn't even sure he'd be able to stand being in the same state as Stiles.  How was he supposed to deal with that?    
But at least he didn't know where exactly Stiles was.  He couldn't be tempted.  He couldn't lose control.    
His mother had assured him this had nothing to do with him or Stiles.  They were just helping out an old friend.  Purely pack business.  He'd just have to accept that and move on.  This would keep him busy and that was something to be grateful for.    
He guessed.    
They were set to arrive today and Derek was sure this was the last time he was going to be alone for a while.  He should really just relax in the quiet.      

            "It's a nice house," Curtis said, knocking his elbow into Derek's.    
Derek grunted his agreement.  
            "And it doesn't help at all does it?"    
Derek sighed, heavily.    
            "I'll be fine.  I just wasn't expecting this.  That's all."    
            "I know you'll be okay.  I'm not checking if you're okay.  This is a good thing we're doing alright?  Let's just focus on that.  And unpack the trucks."    
Derek rolled his eyes, almost laughing when Curtis shoved him.  
            "Yeah whatever you say Alpha Jr."    
Devon and Landon broke into a chorus of howls and Derek cracked a smile.    
            "Hales," Grace yelled, "get your asses over here and help!"    
The unpacking went fairly well but Derek still groaned when Devon cranked up a country station in one of the trucks.    
            "I thought this was California," he groused.    
            "It is.  Just outside Beacon Hills," Landon offered with a grin.    
            "You're all traitors," Derek returned sullenly.    
            "Face it," Landon slid his box onto the counter and clapped a hand on Derek's shoulder, "you're the odd man out."    
            "Traitors," Derek repeated precisely.    

 

…

 

Stiles was spinning his phone aimlessly between his fingertips.    
Scott was on vacation with his mom.    
His father was at work.    
Even Gus was passed out on the couch downstairs.    
He was alone, again, and bored out of his mind.  His fingertips continued slipping over the screen as they turned the black plastic.    
Why he was holding his phone he wasn't even sure.  Aside from a weird apology text from Danny he hadn’t heard from anyone else lately.  He wasn't expecting anything.  But maybe it was the possibility that it would go off.    
Twenty minutes later he'd more or less given up, jumping when it vibrated on his chest.    
The text was from an unknown number and Stiles probably read it fifteen times before he shoved off his bed and all but ran from the room.  
Gus stayed where he was, eyeing Stiles before laying his head back down.  
            "Good boy," Stiles told him, yanking his keys from the hook.    
His heart was in his throat and he couldn't stop himself from scanning the text one more time before cranking the key in the ignition.    
**5194 Aubergine I think I dropped something.  Be careful.  
** Yeah Stiles should probably be partially terrified receiving a text like this.  And he definitely shouldn't go.  But who else could it be?  The text screamed Aaron.    
Anyone else would have said what they dropped, or what to do if Stiles found it.    
_Bastard_.    
He steadfastly ignored the affectionate tinge as he drove out of town.  Aaron was an asshole and Stiles was not ready to kiss his feet just because he'd re-established contact in a very assish way.  He wasn't. 

There was a chain across the end of the driveway and Stiles sat with the engine idling as he debated.  He'd have to get out of his car one way or the other.  He just wasn't sure if be careful meant _don't go roaring up in your jeep_ or _don't get out of the car_.  But he'd have to get out of the car anyways right?  Stifling a groan Stiles shut off the engine and made sure he had his keys tucked in one pocket and his phone in the other.    
He was reasonably sure he wasn't being sent to his death.  Nothing to worry about.  
The driveway wasn't really that long but Stiles wasn't exactly in a hurry.  Again he debated.  Did be careful mean _get out as soon as possible_ or _don't be obvious_?  The only thing he knew for sure was that Aaron was indeed an asshole.  An Asshole.  Aaron the Asshole.  Stiles couldn't help a small snort.    
His phone buzzed and he stopped to pull it out.    
**Are you there yet  
** Stiles snorted again.  
 **Where's the question mark?  
** The response was almost immediate.  
 **Are you there yet?????????????  
Very clever.  Asshole.  
** There was no response and Stiles waited before realizing this was just Aaron's way of getting what he wanted.  He had no choice but to keep walking.

The trees finally started thinning out and Stiles stopped dead as he realized this wasn't just an abandoned property.  Not anymore.  The front door was open and more than one car was parked out front.    
His heart hammered in his chest.    
His feet stuttered forward.    
Someone pulled a box from one of the trucks as he watched, moving towards the house.  A man met him, hands gripping the box too.  They appeared to fight over it for a few seconds before the first released it and turned.    
_No_.    
            "Derek?" he gasped out, mouth going dry and throat wringing tight.    
This couldn't be happening.  His family couldn't be that clever.  They couldn't have-they couldn't have gotten him here.  This couldn't be happening.  It had to be a dream.  
But there was only one way to find out.    
The rest of the distance between them seemed forever.    
Stiles was barely four feet away and he couldn't understand why Derek hadn't heard him, why he hadn't turned to see him.  He was at the back of the truck again, stretching into the bed of it for another box.    
            "Derek!"    
The muscles in Derek's back jumped as he jerked up, cracking his head on the lid before whipping around. 

But Stiles was there then, launching himself onto Derek in what was perhaps the best move of his life.    
            "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Stiles gasped out.    
His arms were around Derek's neck, holding onto him for all he was worth.  Clinging was probably more apt.    
            "Stiles?"    
Derek sounded as breathless as Stiles felt, one hand landing on his back to steady him.    
That was when Stiles realized he was shaking.    
            "What are you doing here?" Derek demanded, one hand tugging on his shoulder.    
Stiles whined behind his teeth, holding tighter.  
            "No don't let me go," he pleaded, shoving his face into Derek's neck.    
            "I'm not," Derek assured him, hand slipping from his shoulder and across his back.  "I just need to see you."    
He inhaled deeply, the hand on Stiles' lower back rubbing up and down slowly.    
            "Now I understand," he sighed.    
            "Your family," Stiles returned.    
            "Mm."    
            "Remind me not to get on their bad side," Stiles managed, wiping at his eyes the best he could with his bicep.  
            "Impossible."    
            "I can't think," Stiles admitted after another moment.    
            "No," Derek agreed softly.    
            "I can't…god..."  His fingertips drifted up into Derek's hair, filling an urge to be actively touching him instead of just holding on.    
Derek pulled him closer, leaning against the back of the truck.    
            "Stiles," he repeated, disbelief lacing the murmur.    
Stiles swallowed with some difficulty before forcing his lips open.  
Nothing came out as Derek swung him around, shoving Stiles between the truck and his chest.  He growled so deep Stiles felt the vibrations, gasp cutting off in pain as Derek bit into his neck.    
Derek turned to snarl at the man approaching, eyes lit blue.    
            " _Mine_ ," he growled gutturally.    
            "Oh fuck," Stiles managed, eyes rolling back just a little. 

The guy laughed, obviously amused.  He held up both hands.  
            "Damn Bro I helped get you here why would I try to take him from you?"    
Derek didn't answer, choosing to nuzzle into Stiles' bloody neck instead.    
Stiles barely held in a whimper.    
            "I'm Curtis, Derek's older brother," Curtis offered, waving quickly.  "You can meet everybody later…I think we're just gonna stay inside the house for now."    
            "Kay," Stiles agreed, shuddering when Derek's tongue ran a long stripe up his neck.    
Curtis was gone and Stiles only vaguely registered the music cranking even louder before changing to something closer to rock.    
            "Not even a kiss?" he hazarded, "Straight to the claiming?"    
He shivered again, hands clamping on the back of Derek's neck.    
            "Sorry," Derek breathed out, pulling back enough to meet his eyes.  "I sort of…lost it."    
            "I noticed," but Stiles couldn't keep the smile off his face and Derek tentatively returned it after a beat.  Stiles moved closer, hugging him and Derek went back to his neck.    
            "God," Stiles murmured eventually, "I want to climb you like a tree.  And I want to sleep on your chest.  And I want to kiss you until I can't breathe.  And I want to cry for a ridiculously long time when I realize that this is real, that you're really here.  And I want you to nuzzle me like you do and hold me until I'm done.  And I want you to meet my dad.  And I want him to see how happy you make me.  Because I'm going to be happy.  _We're_ going to be so happy.  Fuck.  Derek.  So happy."  He inhaled until it felt like his chest was going to crack.  "You're happy right," he managed, feeling breathless again.  "I mean you claimed me so you still-"    
            "Yes."  Derek cut him off forcefully.  "God yes I'm happy Stiles."    
            "I'm going to doubt everything for like the first six months," Stiles told him plainly, "in fact you're not allowed to let me go for six months.  I've just decided."    
Derek chuckled against his skin.  
            "Hope you have a big shower."    
            "Sponge baths," Stiles muttered stubbornly.    
Derek chuckled again, gripping him tighter for just a moment.  
            "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"    
Stiles nearly rolled his eyes.  He also nearly called Derek an idiot for asking.  But he thought both of those things might actually deter the kissing so he just tried to stop smiling long enough to be kissed instead.

It didn't work as well as he was hoping.  That is to say his lips wouldn't stop curling up and when Derek growled in frustration Stiles giggled quickly.    
He was too happy to kiss Derek.  
He was too fucking happy.    
Derek bit his bottom lip, all teeth and direct pressure.  
Stiles couldn't help a wounded little noise, humming out a moan when Derek finally caught his lips in a way that felt like ecstasy.     
They kissed.  
Teasing presses for what felt like years.    
Stiles' hands slipped down Derek's ribs when they finally paused for air.    
            "I missed you," he told him quietly, hands sliding around to his back.    
Derek kissed his cheek before moving down to kiss his jaw as well.    
            "I-" he cut off, hands sliding to the small of Derek's back and feeling something that was definitely not muscle.  "Uh…" he managed.    
            "Just my knife," Derek dismissed, kissing him again.    
            "I'm sorry knife?" Stiles demanded words half mangled.    
            "Just for defense."    
            "Oh," Stiles exhaled.    
            "It's easier to conceal than a gun."    
            "I noticed," Stiles told him, eyebrows moving up.    
Derek rolled his eyes quickly and Stiles' lips twisted again.    
            "We're in new territory," Derek breathed into the hollow of his throat, "and I'll protect what's mine."    
He nuzzled the bite and Stiles jerked at the sudden pain, going hot all over when Derek's mouth closed over it.    
Derek's tongue pressed flat against the wound before he went back to sucking it.    
Stiles managed to inhale.  Sort of.  
            "Whoa, whoa," he tried, hands scrabbling to push at Derek.  "Down boy."    
Derek growled again, not moving an inch. 

            "There isn't a bed within walking distance so you just-you calm down."    
            "Don't need a bed," Derek mumbled into his skin, "is that supposed to be a challenge."    
_Oh god_.  Stiles flushed even hotter, looking up before closing his eyes and trying to maintain some semblance of control.    
            "We can't just jump straight to the reunion sex okay?  Plus aren't there like a shit ton of people in that house right behind us?"    
            "The music probably wouldn't cover it," Derek mumbled.  He sounded downright depressed about it.    
            "Not to mention the whole mating thing," Stiles managed to level him with a stern look.    
            "The whole mating thing," Derek echoed, eyebrows furrowing.    
            "Yeah aren't we like…not supposed to…do that."    
            "Oh," Derek frowned, stepping back and putting space between them.  "Right no.  Of course.  Right."    
            "Whoa, whoa, hey," Stiles protested, flailing for him and yanking him back.  "I said you weren't allowed to let me go, remember?"    
            "Well which is it," Derek demanded, huffing out a quick breath.    
            "Which is what?"    
            "Do you want me or not?"    
Stiles gaped at him.    
Really.  He just gaped.    
            "How-h- _how_ is that not obvious?"    
He gaped a bit more before, "Did you miss me mauling you as much as a human even can?"    
            "Well-"  
            "If it wasn't going to end in sex I would reenact it for you.  Happily."  
            "So no sex?"    
            "What?" Stiles gasped, body aching just at the idea of it.    
            "If you don-"  
Stiles' hand slapped over his mouth.  
            "Oh my god shut up, shut _up_.  I want.  Believe me I want.  I never said I didn't.  I only thought we were supposed to resist the whole urge to mate and therefore sex was dangerous."  
Derek licked at Stiles' palm before scraping his teeth over his fingertips.  
Stiles yanked his hand away, face burning.  
            " _Stop it_ ," he hissed, wiping his hand on his jeans quickly.  
            "I can't walk away from you again.  I don't care if we have to knock your dad out and bring him back to Maine in my trunk.  We'll find a way."    
            "Oh my god you cannot mention my dad in the same discussion as our sex _Jesus_ Derek."    
            "Okay forget about your dad," Derek advised, hips pressing Stiles' into the back of the truck firmly.  "I'm not leaving you again.  So bending you over the next available surface and finally claimingwhat's mine?  I'm all for that."    
Stiles couldn't manage a response. 

Derek tugged his phone from his pocket and Stiles realized then it was vibrating again.    
**Eat your words.  
** Stiles groaned.  Now he used proper punctuation?  Really?    
He passed his phone back to Derek.  
            "Call your brother.  Tell him I love Curtis more and he can go fuck himself."    
            "When did you meet Aaron?" Derek questioned, unlocking Stiles' phone after a moment and pressing a few buttons before putting it to his ear.    
            "Few weeks ago.  He's an asshole."  
            "I know."    
Stiles was close enough to hear Aaron, scowling at the extremely self satisfied tone.  
            "Stiles says fuck you," Derek told him plainly and Stiles smiled, ducking into Derek's shoulder.    
            "Mom says don't scar Curtis for life when you claim Stiles."    
Derek tugged the phone away to scowl at it.    
            "You are such an asshole Aaron."    
            "It'd be awkward for everybody.  I'm only thinking of you Bro."  There was a pause.  "Oh Mom also wants to make sure you're not angry with us."    
Derek smiled softly and Stiles couldn't help but reach out to trace it with his fingertips.    
            "I'm not mad," Derek murmured, lips catching at Stiles' fingertips briefly.  "I've gotta go.  I'll call you back in a few hours."    
Aaron laughed and Stiles flushed hot again.    
            "Don't hurry on my account.  Make it tomorrow."   
            "Tomorrow," Derek agreed, dropping Stiles' phone into his back pocket and pulling Stiles away from the truck by his wrist. 

"Uh where are we going?" Stiles questioned, heat thrumming through him unevenly.  
There was just something about the word _claim_.    
He never used to think so though.    
            "You drove right?" Derek didn't look back as he asked.    
            "Well yeah-"  
            "Good."    
            "I don't have a backseat," Stiles blurted, huffing when it didn't even earn a grunt from Derek.  "Are you even listening to me?" he complained, "Because really this is not very good communication going on and I thought we had _finally_ -"    
Derek spun so fast Stiles stumbled into him, nearly falling.    
            "If you think I'm going to _allow_ you to mate with me in a backseat…" he drifted, running his nose the length of Stiles' neck, "you are so far off base," he finished, turning and tugging Stiles along again.  
Stiles whined at the distance that was once again between them.    
            "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if we just-"  
Derek stopped again and Stiles slammed into him again, clinging this time.    
            "If you'd stop arguing we'd already be in the car," Derek told him quietly, tone nearly threatening.    
            "I'm not arguing I'm just," he cut off as Derek's teeth closed gently over his throat.  "Oh my god," he exhaled.  "I think I'm nervous," he admitted on a whisper.  "I really think I'm nervous.  I'm sorry."

Derek's entire body loosened as if the words were a bucket of cold water and Stiles buried his face in Derek's chest so he didn't have to look at him.    
            "I didn't want that reaction," he mumbled into Derek's shirt.    
Derek's fingers dug into his hair, rubbing after a moment.    
            "You're fuzzy again," he commented.    
            "Are you mocking me?" Stiles gasped, horrified.    
That earned him a quick rake of Derek's nails.    
            "No I'm not mocking you.  You're fuzzy."    
Stiles' lips curled against his will.  
            "That was one of the first things you said to me."    
            "Was it."    
            "You said hey," Stiles reminded him, "and then you told me I was fuzzy."   
            "How do you remember that?"    
            "Um I just lost my virginity.  Kind of branded forever in my mind."    
            "At least I got better at it," Derek murmured.    
It was Stiles' turn to frown in confusion.    
            "Better at it?"    
            "I told you I loved you," Derek told him.  "After sex.  But you don't remember."    
Stiles gaped.    
            "You mean before the confessional in the woods that somehow reeked of _Romeo and Juliet_?"    
Derek smiled at him.    
            "Yes.  Before that."    
            "Huh."    
            "It's a good ego boost," Derek smirked.    
Stiles was mystified that it seemed he was _teasing_ him.    
            "I figured out how to shut your brain down.  At least for a bit." 

Stiles swallowed with some difficulty.    
            "And when you're ready," Derek continued, "we can do it again."    
Stiles managed an unintelligible sound.    
            "Ready, yes ready.  Heh.  I am so ready.  Let's do this."    
            "That was easy," Derek hummed.    
            "You love me," Stiles told him, as if he needed reminding.    
            "Yes," Derek confirmed seriously.    
            "And I love you," Stiles said happily.    
It was easy like breathing.  He hadn't expected that.    
            "Let's go to your house," Derek rubbed the back of his neck one more time before stepping back.  "We don't have to go right to the sex.  It'd probably be better if we didn't actually.  Might be better if I just scent you really well first."    
            "You didn't already do that?"    
Stiles slid his wrist along Derek's, catching his hand.    
            "Clothes are in the way."    
            "Shit," Stiles muttered, nearly biting his tongue.  "If we get naked we are having sex."    
            "Mm.  We'll see."    
            "Don't be such a cock tease," Stiles groaned.    
Derek only turned back enough to grin at him. 

            "I don't want to hurt you," Derek added seriously when they were finally in Stiles' jeep.    
Stiles scowled at him, still offended at Derek's obvious distaste for his jeep.  
            "We're back to that really?"  
He reached out to rub his dash soothingly before scowling at Derek again.    
            "Yes basically because it's been months and I won't be able to control myself."    
Derek groaned before rolling his neck and shoulders.    
            "I thought I would never see you again," he added quietly.    
            "I know," Stiles glanced from the road back to him.   
He remembered the feeling too well.    
            "So it's going to be rough.  The first few times."    
            "Sex is a great pain reliever," Stiles offered, mouth dry, "remember?"    
Derek's lips pursed and Stiles caught a glance of fang when he let out a clipped,  
            "Yes."    
            "And your massages," Stiles all but moaned.  "I know you'll take care of me."    
Derek growled and a shiver ran up Stiles' spine.    
            "Still," he tried, fangs poking out of his lips, "I should scent you first."    
            "Or during."    
Stiles inhaled quickly, gripping the steering wheel tighter.  
            "Driving," he reminded himself aloud, "driving right now." 

Stiles was never more glad he'd forgotten to lock the door.  As soon as it was safely closed Derek was wrapped around him again, hands skimming under his shirt and over his stomach.    
            "God I love you," Stiles let out, sagging into him.    
            "You're mine," Derek returned, hands slipping around his hips and hauling him up.    
Stiles' back slammed against the door, Derek pressing him there firmly.    
            "Shit, shit, shit, bed's upstairs," he panted, hands clenching in the fabric of Derek's shirt.    
            "We're not gonna make it."    
            "Holy god," Stiles managed.  Inhaling sharply he let his lips open again.  "Yes okay door sex yeah I can totally get behind this."    
Derek growled before scoring his teeth over Stiles' jaw.    
            "Not stable enough."    
            "Oooh," leaked out of Stiles' lips on hardly any air.  "You're not going to break my bed are you because that would be hard to explain," he rasped.    
            "Floor," Derek suggested, eyes a steady blue.    
            "I'm going to die."  Stiles meant it seriously but the breathless quality he couldn't shake pretty much ruined it.    
            "I won't let you," Derek breathed into his skin, pulling him away from the door in the next second.    
He turned and made it about two steps actually into the house before stopping again.  
            "No way," Stiles groaned, "we are not having sex in the hallway."  
Derek nipped his jaw.  
            "Lube's upstairs."    
Derek sighed and Stiles knew he won the argument they hadn't had yet but it didn't really feel like he won anything.    
            "I wasn't exactly expecting this," Stiles said by way of apology.  "Plus I can't really keep lube in the entryway I mean that would just be-" He cut off as Derek began sucking on his neck again.    
Stiles barely noted they were making their way up the stairs.

Derek set him back on his feet inside his room and immediately began stripping.    
Stiles stared, probably for too long, before moving to close the door.    
Derek was already down to his jeans and bare feet, reaching behind himself before bringing out the knife Stiles had felt earlier.    
            "Oh shit," Stiles exhaled.    
That should _not_ be as hot as it was.  Absolutely not.    
The sheath was tossed to the floor and Derek advanced on him.    
            "Oh," Stiles breathed, " _shit_."    
His heart was hammering and he knew very well Derek could hear it.    
Derek could have been smirking or snarling.  Maybe it was somewhere between.  Stiles couldn't decide.    
He plucked at the collar of Stiles' shirt with his fingertips, slitting it open about two inches with a deft swipe of his wrist.  
Stiles' knees gave out and he fell against the door behind him.    
            "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Stiles muttered as Derek mouthed at the exposed skin, sucking so hard it burned.    
Derek cut his shirt again, the slice in the fabric stopping halfway down his ribs.    
            "Fuck-you-fuck," was all Stiles managed.    
Derek let the knife drop to the floor, Stiles was almost sorry to see it go, before taking either side of his shirt in both hands and ripping it the rest of the way open.    
            "That was so p-pointless," Stiles stammered out, gasping for more oxygen.    
            "No," Derek disagreed simply before dipping to lap at his chest.    
            "Unnece-oh my god…unnecessary then."    
            "You liked it," Derek smiled slowly.    
            "Fuck you."  It wasn’t even halfhearted.    
Derek simply arched an eyebrow.  
            "Lube's under the mattress," Stiles said to distract him.    
It worked.

Stiles never thought he'd be flat on his back on the rug in his room.    
But Derek was tugging his jeans free of his legs and he suddenly didn't care.    
Derek's hands clutched his hips and he pressed his entire body down on top of Stiles'.    
Stiles sighed into his neck, body accepting the weight gratefully.    
They lay still for much longer than Stiles expected before Derek finally began rolling his hips.  The calm he'd somehow managed shattered and his hands were up and clutching at Derek's back.  He was whimpering pathetically by the time they were both naked.    
Derek stopped mauling his neck rather suddenly, glaring in the direction of his jeans.  
            "What," Stiles panted quietly, "what is it?"    
            "Phone," Derek gritted, climbing off him.    
Stiles whined and made grabby hands, to no avail.    
Derek shoved his phone in his face and Stiles shot up, seeing **Dad** on the screen.  
            "Fuck," he groaned before faking what was truly an excellent yawn and answering the call.    
Derek paced anxiously as Stiles talked to his father, even cracking his knuckles.    
Stiles would have told him he didn't have to force himself not to eavesdrop but supposed it was polite of Derek and would probably be nice in the future.    
Ending the call he tossed his phone away and laid back in what he hoped was an inviting position.    
            "Holdup at the gas station, won't be home for dinner, gave me permission to order pizza," he rattled off when Derek didn't jump back on top of him.

Stiles sighed before reaching for the lube himself because his dick was a little sad and could use some stimulation.  He stroked twice quickly before leaning on his left hip and pulling his leg out of the way.  He slicked his fingers, gasping when he spilled some lube on his stomach as well.  Meeting Derek's eyes as he pressed a finger against his hole drew a moan from him.  
Derek was staring at him, eyes blue again, mouth hanging open almost half an inch.    
Hooking his fingertip and tugging at the rim of muscle he moaned again.    
He wasn't in the mood to tease himself, not really, but he had a feeling it was doing more for Derek than it was for him.  He tightened up around his finger, groaning in frustration.  Now was not the time for his body to be uncooperative.  Letting his fingertip slip free he rubbed with two, hips already rocking into the pressure.    
            "If you don't get down here I swear to gu-" breaking off on a moan Stiles shoved his finger back in, thighs tensing and trembling.  He forced a second finger in on the next stroke, groaning at the pain.    
            "When did you get so good at that?" Derek questioned hoarsely.  His tongue darted out to wet his lips and Stiles had to resist the urge to smirk.  
            "I'm a teenage boy," he answered, "I have hormones."    
            "How-you…" he drifted, as if unsure how to finish the sentence.    
Stiles paused long enough to shoot him an incredulous look.  
            "You think I used this with someone else?"    
It took Derek a moment to shake his head, as if he was stunned stupid.    
            "So you did this," he finally allowed, "by yourself."    
            "Obviously."    
He started moving again, need arcing across his skin.    
            "Thinking about…us?"    
            "Actually I have a thing for Richard Simmons," Stiles bit out, thrusting in harder.  
Derek snarled and Stiles shivered just at the sound.    
            "Fuck Derek of course I was thinking about you if you don't get the fuck down here and put your dick inside me I swear to god I am going to-"

Thankfully Derek chose that moment to blanket him, cutting off whatever absolutely ridiculous threat Stiles had been about to come up with.    
Derek yanked his wrist out of the way, pinning both of them above his head.    
He bared his teeth, Stiles biting into his bottom lip savagely to catch the sound when Derek thrust in.    
Blood seeped over his teeth and slid along his tongue and he couldn't breathe.    
            "Fuck, fuck," he whined, hips already canting up for more.    
Derek's hips rolled against his, trapping his cock in sharp pleasure pain.   
His hands fell to the rug on either side of Stiles' head, fingers clenching in the fabric.     
            "I'm not gonna last," Stiles whimpered, nails digging into Derek's shoulder blades.    
            "No," Derek agreed and fuck was that already his knot?    
            "Fuck," Stiles whispered, trying to spread his thighs wider.    
It was too much but he wanted more.    
Derek's hips stilled against his and Stiles made a protesting noise, eyes slamming shut as Derek's knot continued to swell alarmingly fast.    
            "Oh my god," Stiles squeaked out.    
            "Fuck, sorry," the words were half growled and Stiles heavily debated blacking out.   
            "Think you're breaking me," he gasped out, trying to hold him even tighter.    
Derek dipped to his neck, licking and scraping his teeth along it.    
Stiles bit his lip again, wincing at the pain.    
Derek's hips rocked minutely before rolling and Stiles moaned louder than should have been possible.  He wondered if it hurt Derek's ears.    
Teeth closed over his collar bone gently and Stiles squirmed.    
Every thought in his brain was circling in a tight coil of _need to come, need to come, needtocome_.    
Derek's hips kept rolling against his and Stiles was burning up.

He worked a hand between them with a lot of desperation, a sheen of sweat, and a bit of luck.  He wasted no time in wrapping a hand around himself, jerking up.  His hips stuttered in momentary confusion, tugging on Derek and wringing a moan from each of them.    
Derek pressed tight against him, somehow also leaving him room to stroke himself.  His mouth aligned with Stiles' neck and Stiles knew what was coming.  This had happened enough times.    
His mouth only just opened on a soundless cry when Derek's teeth broke through the skin.    
Stiles, being Stiles, immediately started cursing through his twisting haze of pleasure.    
A few moments later Derek chuckled.    
            "Hate you so much," Stiles let out.    
            "No you don't," Derek returned, somehow managing to yank the cover off Stiles' bed and arranging it around them.    
            "You're going to have to heal all the shit on my neck you know that right."    
Derek grunted.    
            "I think that was actually too intense to be enjoyable," Stiles admitted after several minutes of silence.    
            "I'll give you a massage," Derek said, unmoving.    
            "Fuck I think I love you again."    
            "Shit am I bleeding on my rug?" Stiles questioned as the thought occurred to him.    
Derek checked quickly before laying down again.  
            "Just oozing a little."    
            "What a relief," Stiles muttered dryly.    
            "Definitely have to last longer next time," Derek returned.    
            "Speaking of next time how necessary is the biting because…" he drifted as Derek tensed on top of him.  "I'm sensing you have something to tell me?"    
            "That's how it's done," Derek said softly.  "Claiming.  Mating.  It's through a bite."    
            "Oh."    
Stiles stroked his fingers along the back of Derek's shoulder unconsciously.    
            "So why haven't we mated then?"    
            "Because you have to bite me too."    
Stiles laid in silence for a few seconds.  
            "Oh." 

Stiles got his promised massage.    
In fact Derek massaged him until he fell asleep.    
When Stiles woke up it was dark in his room.  His covers were suspiciously close to his shoulders and Gus was curled up on the side of his bed.  
His dad had been here and he had to assume Derek had fled for that reason.    
Sighing Stiles rolled over and sleep teased at the edges of his brain for a while.  
Eventually he got up and ambled to the bathroom, pleased that he wasn't achy at all.  Instead he just felt warm and content.    
Returning to his room he snagged Pop-Tarts off his desk and settled on his bed.    
He reached under the mattress with one hand as he ate, relieved to feel the bottle of lube tucked back where it belonged.  Something crinkled under his fingertips and he pulled out a slip of paper.    
**sorry I had to go – call me soon  
** Stiles laid back, still holding onto the note.    
_Fuck I'm Bella Swan.  
The male version.  
Bello.  
Bello Stilinksi.  
That sounds fucking disgusting.    
_ He was still smiling though.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know the smut was pathetic. 
> 
> I'm sorry.
> 
> Next time will be better. Probably. Maybe.
> 
> Anyways I'm going to not ramble because I'm super nervous bc I know it's been a long time coming and anyways thank you sorry if it sucks sorry I'm so bad at thinking it doesn't suckkk. I mean I should just know by now right? 
> 
> Well thanks and one last sorry.


	25. I Swear it's You that My Heart Beats For

Stiles unplugged his phone and unlocked it without really thinking about it.  Of course it was then that he realized he didn't have Derek's number.  Or maybe he did?  
Frowning he scrolled through his contacts.   
A stupid grin broke out at the **derek** listed.   
The call only rang once before connecting.  
            "Hey."   
Stiles bit down on his lips, embarrassed to find his eyes tightening.  
            "Hey," he returned shallowly, throat threatening to close off.   
            "What's wrong?"   
            "No," Stiles tried, eyes filling, "I'm okay I just-" he cut off to breathe, "we're talking on the phone," he muttered.  God he sounded so pathetic.  "We're talking on the phone and that's so you know weird for us."   
            "I'm coming right now," Derek said, voice tight.   
            "I'm okay," Stiles cried, "hormonal teenager remember?"   
There was a scrabbling against the side of the house, Gus barked downstairs and Stiles started, jaw dropping open as his window slid open and Derek climbed inside.   
            "What were you hiding in the bushes?" he demanded, still holding his phone to his ear.  Derek tossed his phone to the desk before sitting beside Stiles and pulling him close.  
            "Of course not," he returned stiffly.   
Stiles sagged into him, letting Derek pull the phone away.   
            "Well you didn't have to come so fast," Stiles muttered wiping at his cheeks, "I don't like crying in front of people."  
            "You did say you wanted me to hold you while you cried," Derek reminded him, one corner of his mouth curling just barely.   
            "Oh my god you can't hold that against me I was...in shock.  Or something."

Derek simply hummed, fingertips rubbing over Stiles' ribs.       
            "I'm pretty sure I also said I wanted to climb you like a tree.  And that I wanted you to meet my dad which hello is going to be awkward."   
            "You don't want me to meet your dad?"   
            "No, I mean-I didn't mean that of course I want you to meet him it's just going to be weird because just 'oh hey remember that werewolf I told you about?' like how is that even supposed to go down?"  
            "You told him about werewolves," Derek said, voice so flat it wasn't a question.   
            "Hey don't get all defensive on me okay he's my dad!  He's the only one I have and I hadn't seen him in like three months and he's a fucking sheriff okay.  He's like a human lie detector.  I bet he's almost as good as you.  Oh my god what if he just looks at us and already knows we had sex?"  Stiles cut off as the thought wreaked havoc on his brain.  "I'm not legal!  And you're a werewolf!  What if he decides he doesn't even care and tries to lock you up anyways?  Oh my god I'm going to die."   
            "He's not just going to know Stiles."   
            "You don't know that!  You've never even met him!"   
            "He won't be able to smell it like my parents.  Calm down."   
Stiles winced.   
            "That is really just.  Unfortunate.  So everyone knows when everyone has had sex?"   
            "Yes."  
            "So when I go to meet the rest of your wolfy cohorts they will know?"   
            "If it makes you feel any better they'll be surprised the scent is so thin."  
            "What do you mean thin?"  
            "We only had sex once."  
As if he needed reminding.   
            "Well excuse me for having emotions," Stiles huffed.  
            "At least you stopped crying."   
            "Oh my god," Stiles let out, eyes rolling.   
Derek pressed a kiss to the side of his head and Stiles fell silent, nearly smiling. 

            "So what's the plan?" he questioned finally.   
            "Plan?"   
            "Yeah I mean what are you all doing here?"   
Derek blinked at him.  As if he was missing something obvious.  
            "What?" Stiles demanded, "It can't just be because-" but he cut off, lips falling open a bit more.  "Me?" he gaped.  "You're all here because of me?"   
            "Yeah."   
            "Jesus," Stiles exhaled, "don't sugar coat it or anything."  
            "How should I sugar coat it?" Derek questioned, pressing him backwards slowly.  "Like this?" he whispered, lips pressing against Stiles'.   
            "That uh-that works yeah," Stiles returned softly, one arm looping around Derek's neck.       
            "They dragged my ass here so I could be with you," Derek offered between presses of his lips.   
Stiles laughed once, chest filling with warmth.   
            "Not to change directions," he sighed, "but I mean...everything's okay now?  It's just going to be okay?"   
            "We're here until you're ready to go."   
Stiles searched his face, forcing himself not to frown.  
            "To Maine?"   
Derek didn't look away.   
            "That's where my family is.  That's where I'd prefer to go, yes."   
            "I don't know how my dad would feel about that," Stiles admitted.  "Leaving here would be weird.  My mom's here...and this house..."   
            "Did you intend to spend the rest of your life here?" Derek questioned gently.   
            "I guess not," Stiles admitted slowly.  "I didn't really...plan for the future much."   
            "Good."  He dropped a kiss to the corner of Stiles' mouth.  "I don't want to drag you away from anything."   
            "We could visit right?"   
Derek smiled easily.  
            "Of course."

Derek kissed him again and Stiles relaxed in his hold.  
            "What about school?" Derek questioned.  "Have you planned on any colleges?"   
Stiles blushed slightly.   
            "There's still...plenty of time to do that."   
            "You don't have to," Derek said eventually.   
Stiles' eyebrows moved up.  
            "I don't have to go to college?"  
            "Not if you don't want," Derek stressed.  "The pack has plenty of money."   
            "Oh my god are you offering to be my sugar wolf?"   
Derek flicked his ear and Stiles pouted.   
            "I'm being serious.  If you want to go to college that's fantastic and we will find a way for you to do that.  But if it's not something you'd set your heart on...we don't have to."   
            "It'd be easier not to huh?"   
Derek nodded after a moment.   
            "We can deal with that later," Stiles decided.   
            "Anything else you're burning to discuss?" Derek questioned, pressing closer.   
            "Maybe?" Stiles questioned.  
            "You have about thirty seconds," Derek breathed in his ear.   
            "That sounds very ah-direct."   
            "It should."   
Derek's teeth closed gently over his earlobe, tugging. 

            "What times is it?" Stiles questioned, breathless and full of nerve endings firing off.   
            "Just after eight."   
            "In the morning?"   
            "Mmhm."   
Derek's knees slid to cage his thighs, mouth ghosting over his cheek.   
            "You fell asleep early remember?"   
            "Oh right."  
So not helping the situation in his pants.   
            "Slept a long time too," Stiles sighed out.   
            "Mm."   
Derek's hips rolled against his.   
            "Oh my god I'm really hungry," Stiles let out as it occurred to him.   
Derek froze over him.   
            "Hungry."   
            "Nope," Stiles lied, stomach gurgling, "nope I'm fine I am good to go please continue."  Derek eased off the bed, glowering at him.   
            "You're going to be the death of me."   
            "Come on I lied, I am only hungry for you big guy."  Stiles made more grabby hands and everything.   
Derek's eyebrows inched closer together.  He hauled Stiles up by the front of his shirt, which he honestly didn't remember putting on, and pushed him towards the door.  
            "When did you dress me oh my god how did I miss that?"   
            "You were asleep," Derek said.  
            "Very helpful," Stiles rolled his eyes and made his way down the stairs.   
            "I'm not pinning you down and fucking you so I would say I am being helpful right now."   
Stiles inhaled and exhaled slowly.   
            "I'm not making any promises while you're eating though," Derek offered darkly.  
            "Choking to death while having sex is not in my cards so you just keep it in your pants," Stiles returned finally.  
            "I know CPR."  
            "Really?"  
            "No."  
Stiles snorted.

Derek mostly behaved while he ate, probably because the way Stiles was absolutely stuffing his face with leftovers was enough to kill anyone's boner.   
            "Mental note," Stiles said around another mouthful, "one pack of Pop-Tarts is not enough for twenty four hours."   
Derek rolled his eyes, slipping behind him to squeeze his shoulders and slide his hands down his back.      
            "Almost done?"   
Stiles reached for another piece of garlic bread, forgetting to bite into it as Derek's hips pressed against his gently.   
            "Hm?" he managed weakly.   
Derek's mouth settled just above his collar, hands gripping at his hips.   
The garlic bread dropped to the floor and Stiles leaned back against Derek, sighing.   
            "We can't have sex in the kitchen," he exhaled slowly.   
Derek huffed against his skin.  
            "Why not?"   
            "Because my dad is the sheriff, remember?"   
            "He won't know."   
            "Well I will.  Back to my room or I'm eating more."   
Derek's hands stopped their downward slide and he sighed again.   
            "You're impossible," he chided, nipping lightly.   
Stiles shivered in his arms.  He didn't deny it.

The next couple days they got lucky.  A lot.  They weren't careful.  They didn't always stop when they should.  Mostly it was a handful of miracles that kept Stiles' father and even Melissa McCall from catching them.   
Surprisingly enough Stiles didn't have to worry about Scott as he was caught up with a new drive to make first line this year.  Stiles might have been all aboard that plan if Derek hadn't been there.      
Stiles was watching a movie on his laptop, alone for once, when his phone rang.  
            "Hello?"      
            "We have a problem."   
Stiles made an unwilling noise in the back of his throat.  
            "Problem?  What problem?  What?"   
            "I met your dad," Derek said hesitantly.   
            "Oh god he knows," Stiles exhaled, "he knows you deflowered his son doesn't he, did he try to shoot you?  Did he arrest you oh my god.  Is this your one phone call because I am not a lawyer okay."   
            "Stiles," Derek gritted.  "No he didn't arrest me.  Or shoot me.  He just shook my hand.  And looked at me."   
            "Looked at you?"  Stiles free hand twisted in his shirt.   
            "Yeah.  Like he knew me."   
            "Oh god," Stiles flopped back on his bed.   
            "I would assume he's on his way to you now."   
            "Jesus Christ Derek how did you even meet him?"

Derek paused to groan and Stiles had the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like this.   
            "I may have dropped Henry off some lunch."   
Stiles remained silent for an impressive ten seconds.  
            "And what my dad was just mysteriously there?"  
            "Since he was at...the station...I don't think it was so mysterious," Derek said haltingly.   
            "Why was Henry at the station.  Why were you at the station.  Derek I swear to god-"  
            "Henry may have taken a job there," Derek said in a rush.   
            "Oh my god!" Stiles all but yelled it.  A vindictive part of him hoped Derek flinched.  
            "It's the best way to run background checks without anyone noticing!" Derek hissed in return.   
            "I'm not even touching the stupidity of that with a ten foot pole.  My question is why were you expecting my father, the sheriff, to _not_ be there?"   
            "He was out for lunch, he came back early."   
            "Oh my god I hate everything," Stiles whined.  "How could he recognize you?  How?"   
            "I don't know!" Derek growled.   
Stiles shoved off the bed, gazing at his posters with a new horror.  
            "I have to go."

The pictures were yanked off his posters and stuffed into his pillowcase.  He'd barely pinned the posters back in place when the front door opened and closed.  Stiles said a quick prayer, even though he wasn't sure who it was to.  He waited for his father to come up the stairs, or worse, simply yell for him.   
He didn't do either.   
Stiles chewed on his lip, heart racing.   
            "Okay...okay," he muttered to himself, "you can do this Stilinski.  Man up."   
He'd never opened his door more slowly in his life.  He'd never opened any door more slowly in his life.   
Stiles spent a good three minutes pressed up against the wall at the top of the stairs.   
He didn't hear movement down below.  It would be reassuring, if he didn't know his father was home.   
By the time Stiles actually forced himself downstairs, he found his father seated at the dining room table, all four of his guns spread out in front of him.  
Pausing in the doorway, one hand on the frame to hold him up, Stiles closed his eyes and cursed silently for a long minute.   
Cleaning guns in silence was never, note _never_ , a good thing.   
Stiles stepped into the room and sank into the chair closest to him.  He didn't say anything, which was only part of the punishment for him, waiting for his dad to speak.  
The shotgun cracked open.   
Stiles' father still didn't look at him.   
            "You didn't tell me Derek was so much older than you," his father said what felt like a year later.   
            "It's onl-" he cut off sharply at his father's glare, nearly biting himself.   
            "Derek Hale," his father continued, shutting the shotgun with both hands, still glaring.  "He was kind enough to introduce himself.  Though he looked like he'd rather chew his own...paw off."   
He paused and Stiles was horribly tempted to giggle for just a second.  
            "It was nice to finally have a name to put with the face." 

They stared at each other for several long moments.   
Stiles wanted to be mad at his dad for snooping but he was the sheriff.  He really should have seen this coming.  Right?  
His father picked up the revolver he rarely even touched and Stiles sagged further in his chair.   
            "So I'm to assume my new deputy is a werewolf?"   
 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck._    
            "I haven't met him," Stiles hedged, "officially."   
His father went very still.  
Stiles wanted to die again.  
            "Why?"   
There was so much danger in those three little letters.  Stiles' hands were clenched so tight he was reasonably sure they'd never work again.   
            "They arrived nearly a week ago," his father continued, voice absolutely void of emotion, "so why would you not have met them yet?"   
Then Stiles did the worst thing possible.  
He started laughing.   
It wasn't quite hysterical.     
            "I plead the fifth?" he gasped out, one hand coming up to cage his mouth.   
            "Oh Jesus," his father said, forehead dropping into the hand that still loosely held the revolver.   
            "I can't get pregnant?" Stiles blurted next, eyes leaking slowly.    
 _Oh my god.  OH MY GOD.  Mouth we are over.  We are so over._    
            "Stiles please."  He sounded pained.   
            "It's not my fault you can't come home in the middle of the day and start cleaning your guns when I just got off the phone with-" _change subject oh my god_ , "and it's like terror level hide yo' kids hide yo' wife in here and how am I supposed to say the right thing to assure you that I have not lost my virginity many many times already?"  
            "He won't die if I shoot him right."   
            "Isn't that supposed to be a question?"   
            "No."

            "Dad you don't understand," Stiles whined, "it's going to be literally _painful_ if you separate us."   
            "Son.  Stop talking."   
            "Dad I'm serious I'll probably get sick you can't just split us we're-"  
            "Do _not_ say that word again."   
            "There's nothing dirty about the word bonded," Stiles hissed.   
            "That's it, you're grounded."   
            "I was already grounded!"   
This stopped his father short.  He turned and left without another word.  
When he came back with the toolbox Stiles bodily placed himself in front of the window, which was as bad a giveaway as anything.   
            "Don't you think you're overreacting?" Stiles questioned.   
            "He comes in through the window doesn't he?" his father demanded.   
            "Dad!  You can't do this, you just can't!"   
            "Get out of my way and watch me."  
            " _Dad_ ," Stiles groaned.   
            "You lied to me.  You've been sneaking around behind my back."   
Stiles' argument flew right out of his head.  His dad mostly had a point there.   
            "You went through my room!" he accused; sort of ridiculously relieved he'd remembered it.   
            "I memorized every detail of this room while you were gone.  You can't expect to switch from scotch tape to thumbtacks and not expect me to notice it."  
            "I'm sorry," Stiles tried, tentatively reaching out, "I'm sorry I lied to you I just needed time-"  
            "I knew something was going on.  I knew it.  But I _trusted_ you to tell me what it was when you were ready."   
            "And I was going to!  I just, I needed time to-"  
            "Oh I know what you needed time for."   
Stiles' face burned but he still shook his head.  
            "I needed to make sure this was what I wanted."   
            "And now?  You're just going to leave?  Run off in the middle of the night?"   
Stiles was horrified for a second before sagging in relief.  
            "No.  Dad no.  I'm not just going to leave.  Of course-  How could you even.  Oh my god."  He hugged him tightly.  "I'm not leaving you."   
            "I'm still nailing the window shut," his father muttered stubbornly.  
            "No you aren't now shut up you're ruining the moment."

His father was a lot easier to deal with once Stiles assured him that he and Derek were not going to elope in the middle of the night.   
            "You're not allowed to shoot him," Stiles reminded him sternly.   
            "Accidents happen," his father returned dryly, beer firmly in hand.   
            "I'm serious," Stiles said, pointing a finger at him for emphasis.   
There was a knock on the door, hard and impatient, maybe nervous.   
Stiles stumbled to answer it.   
            "Hey," he let out, relieved to see Derek standing alone on the porch.  He'd mostly expected him to bring backup.   
            "Hey," Derek repeated, brow deeply furrowed.   
            "We can do this," Stiles told him, reaching out to take his hand.   
            "Is he going to shoot me?"   
            "Maybe.  But you'll heal right?"   
Derek looked unimpressed.   
            "Okay," he agreed finally, "let's do this."  
Stiles' father hadn't moved from the couch, though his expression was remarkably more pinched than when Stiles left.   
            "Dad," Stiles said, tone pointed.   
His father heaved a long suffering sigh before pushing off the couch, beer still in hand.  He raised an eyebrow.   
Stiles huffed quietly, to himself, but Derek still tensed next to him.  
            "Oh my god," he exhaled.   
One more moment to feel excruciatingly sorry for himself and then he cleared his throat.  
            "Okay.  Obviously I'm going to do all the talking here.  Dad this is Derek Hale who I know you already met but not as my boyfriend."   
His father scowled and Stiles was hugely tempted to kick him.   
            "Derek this is my father _Sheriff_ Stilinski.  Who you already met.  And knew was in fact my dad."   
His father's lips twitched and Stiles was well aware the irony was not lost on him.   
            "Sir," Derek offered.   
            "Please," his father lifted his beer and took a quick gulp, "call me Sheriff."   
            "Oh my god Dad that is not your first name."   
            "Yes it is." 

They were going out for dinner.  There would be no gunfire in public and Stiles honestly wasn't sure if his father actually was going to try and shoot Derek or not.  He was all tight and grouchy again now that Derek was actually in front of him and Stiles had no idea what to do about it.   
When Stiles' father slid behind him in the booth, leaving Derek to sit alone across from them, he wanted to die.   
He settled for stepping on his father's toe instead.      
His father didn't react at all and Stiles was left unsatisfied.  
Derek looked uncomfortable and surprisingly small on the other side of the booth alone.   
Stiles softened, stretching out a foot to his legs, trying not to gasp when Derek pulled his foot into his lap, fingertips curling around his shoe.   
Stiles' heart squeezed in his chest and he didn't even know what to do with that.   
 _Bello_ he thought faintly.   
            "So Derek," Stiles' father began and Stiles couldn't help but cringe in reaction.  "Have you been to college?"   
            "No I haven't."  
            "What high school did you graduate from?"  
            "I didn't attend public school."   
            "Do you even have a GED?"   
            "Oh my god Dad.  It isn't 1910.  You don't have to make sure he has enough goats to provide for me."   
            "Yes I have my GED," Derek said, both of them continuing as if Stiles hadn't even spoken.  
            "Thrilling."      
            "You didn't go to college either," Stiles reminded his father hotly.  
            "You're serious about this boy," the sheriff said, turning to him.  
It drew Stiles up short.   
His jaw worked shortly, wordlessly.   
            "So you've been working then?  What do you do?" he finally continued, turning back to Derek.   
            "Most recently I taught self defense and tai chi."   
Unsurprisingly, Stiles' father looked unimpressed.   
            "Lots of things before that," Derek added.   
            "Why?" his father asked simply and wasn't that a loaded question. 

Stiles tensed, glancing around for the first time for a waiter.  They hadn't even been served menus yet.  His dad's badge must be sending out its _don't fuck with me_ vibes.   
Stiles stifled a groan.  Barely.   
            "Dad I hardly think you need Derek's entire life story."   
            "He showed up out of the blue and has been sneaking around with my underage son.  I disagree.  You really don't have to be present."   
            "Dad seriously…"   
            "My sister died," Derek said, cutting them off.  "I left home."   
A thick silence enveloped all three of them.  
            "I'm sorry to hear that."   
Stiles stretched over the table, offering his hand and wiggling his fingers when Derek didn't take it right away.  Stiles didn't look to his father, all but holding his breath until Derek finally laid his hand down.   
            "I didn't say that so you would feel sorry for me," Derek added slowly, "I'm explaining myself.  As for my education it doesn't mean that I will be any less able to take care of your son.  If anything I'll be able to better protect him."   
            "Because of your…" he trailed off deliberately.   
            "Partially," Derek admitted, neck crooking slightly.   
Silence fell again.  
Stiles gave Derek's hand a squeeze, shifting and letting his foot drop back to the floor.  Not that he wasn't used to sitting in uncomfortable positions but still.   
            "Hi," the waiter offered cheerily and Stiles wanted to stab him.  "I'm Alex I'll be taking care of you guys tonight.  Can I get you anything to drink?"  
            "Three waters.  Go away."   
Alex gaped.  
So did Stiles.  
For several long moments no one moved.   
            "I'll just leave the," he was half offering menus, jaw a bit clenched.  
            "Go."   
            "Way to be subtle Dad seriously."   
            "You're the one who wanted to do this here."

Nearly two hours later Stiles was still grounded and Derek was definitely _not_ invited back to their house.   
            "Do you at least not hate him?" Stiles eyes were firmly on the window, morose.  
            "No I don't hate him.  Seems decent.  Bit creepy."  His father shrugged before turning on the radio.  
            "Wait so you're like…cool?"  
Stiles' jaw was all but on the floor.   
His father was totally relaxed.  They might as well have been discussing what to do on his Saturday off.   
            "No Son I am not _cool_ ," he said with a flick of a grimace.  "You two still snuck around behind my back, you weren't totally honest with me, and you horribly took advantage."   
Stiles sank back to his seat, sighing.   
            "Dad I'm sor-"  
            "But he seems decent.  Puts up with you rather well.  He comes around a bit _with_ permission and does it right…we'll work something out."   
            "Really?"  Stiles was too eager and he knew it but holy hell this was a big deal and suddenly he couldn't breathe quite right.   
His father hummed agreement and Stiles couldn't keep the grin off his face.   
            "You'll have to keep your grades up obviously," his father said, somewhat ominously.  "And I fully expect you to return to the lacrosse team this year."   
            "Well yeah," Stiles agreed with an easy grin.  He'd already been planning on it.  That was before Derek had popped up but hey if that was the tradeoff he would happily plant his ass on the bench and run suicides until he puked.  Maybe Derek would massage him afterwards.  He couldn’t help a happy little hum and he could feel his father side eyeing him.  He didn't even care.   
            "Nothing below a 3.8 GPA.  And actually making it into a couple games wouldn't hurt either."   
Stiles managed something that sounded a lot like _meep_ as a sense of horror settled over his skin.  For the first time he realized his father now had the perfect blackmail material.   
 _Shit._

He waited until his father was back on the couch, another beer in hand and TV on before sneaking upstairs to call Derek.  
            "Hey."  
Stiles couldn't help but tense up.   
Derek sounded _wrecked_.   
            "Are you okay?  What's wrong?"   
Derek gave a hollow laugh and Stiles began to pace against his will.  
            "Your father hates me doesn't he?  Is he even gonna let us see each other?"   
He cut off sharply and Stiles could picture him biting at his lips, physically forcing the words to stop.   
            "No it's fine.  I mean…  Well he's not ya know thrilled but he's okay I think.  He's going to blackmail the shit out of me and we won't be able to sneak around as much but it'll be okay.  We'll figure this out."   
Derek was quiet so long it prompted a quiet,  
            "Derek?" from Stiles.   
            "I'm here," Derek answered softly.  "What do you mean about blackmail?"  
            "Oh you know," Stiles huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes, "make sure I don't screw off in school.  Keep my grades up.  I kinda think he wants me to actually play lacrosse too."   
            "Maybe I could help with that," Derek offered after a few beats of silence.   
            "I already had that thought," Stiles told him with a smirk.   
            "But I'm not referring to sex."   
            "Who said I was?"   
Derek laughed and Stiles relaxed, dropping into his computer chair.   
            "I can hear you pouting."   
            "Teenage boy," Stiles reminded him, "I'm _supposed_ to love sex."   
            "So it's going to be okay?" Derek reaffirmed, not so subtlety changing the subject.  
            "What is it with you two?" Stiles demanded.  "You're both so sure I'm going to leave you for the other.  There is plenty of Stiles to go around."   
            "To be fair you did sort of leave him for me.  And me for him."   
Stiles stopped the lazy half circle he'd been turning, toe pressing to the floor.  
            "That's not how it was.  You know that's not how it was."   
            "I know that.  I'm only saying…we both know what it feels like to not have you anymore.  And you can't blame us for not wanting to feel that again."   
  
Stiles huffed a sigh that might have been just a tiny bit exaggerated.   
            "Damn why couldn't you have said that at the restaurant.  You two could have bonded and made my life so much easier."  
            "I'm not exactly in the right place to speak freely to your father Stiles."    
            "This is true.  He did tell you to call him Sheriff."   
            "I remember," Derek said dryly.   
Stiles bit at his smile.  
            "It was kind of funny."  
            "No."  
            "In a bad way?"  
            "No."  
            "We'll laugh about it eventually?"  
            "No."   
            "Well I still love you and that has to count for something," he settled on, picking lint from his knee.   
            "I love you too," Derek returned.   
            "Maybe we can come out and meet all of you tomorrow, calm him down a little bit."   
            "You think it'll help?"   
            "Don't know.  But I probably should meet the rest of your pack.  Don't you think?"   
            "Yeah," Derek said, the word ending on a quiet rumble.  "We'll hide the weapons," he added.   
            "That was a joke, right?"   
            "No." 

Stiles had honestly expected more of a fight from his father about meeting the rest of the Hale Pack: California Unit.  Then again his dad hadn't really been doing anything like Stiles had expected him to.  He practically had whiplash.   
            "So we're going to be honest now right?  100%?"  
Stiles squinted at him.  
            "You're doing that thing where you say _we_ but you really mean _you_ aren’t you?"   
            "Use your best judgment," his father said, expression utterly unimpressed.  
            "Yes okay.  _I_ will be totally honest from now on.  I talked to Derek on the phone last night and we haven't seen each other since the restaurant."   
            "Did you use protection?" his father asked after a few beats of silence, interrogation tone in full force.   
            "Um," Stiles managed, cheeks burning.  "It's not really- ah- I mean…well no but-"  
            "What werewolves can't get STD's?"   
            "I don't know," Stiles answered, grimacing.   
            "You didn't ask?"   
            "It never came up-" _bad pun_ really _bad pun_ , "I just wasn't thinking about it."   
            "I should have brought my gun."   
            "No Dad.  No.  Guns are not needed for casual interactions."   
            "You told me you had sex ed, you told me it was taken care of Stiles."   
            "Oh my god Dad," he buried his face in one hand, "I did have sex ed okay I know the basics it just wasn't…applicable…to the situation."   
            "What do you mean it wasn't _applicable_ Stiles this is your health, possibly your life we're talking about here!"   
            "Well it's not like I carry condoms around with me!" Stiles protested.  "And anyways it wouldn't have fit!"   
            "What do you-" his father cut off sharply, thankfully hitting the brakes at a stop sign.  "I don't want to know do I?" he questioned, resigned.   
            "I _highly_ doubt it," Stiles said, voice nearly cracking.  
They sat at the stop sign much longer than was really necessary.   
            "If he gave you anything I will shoot him," his father said seriously before finally easing off the brakes. 

Derek was waiting when they pulled up.  He was leaning against the back of his Camaro, arms crossed.   
Stiles tried to smile through the windshield, it didn't quite work.   
The front door opened and a few people filed out, Stiles recognized Curtis.   
            "Give me a minute," Stiles' father said, cutting the engine and climbing out.  
Biting his lip, Stiles did as he was told.  Which was agony.   
Derek pushed off his car and they approached each other, Derek eventually offering his hand.  
Stiles' father hauled back and punched him right in the face.   
Stiles' jaw fell open and he scrambled out of the car.   
Everyone was off the porch, a few half wolfed out and only held back by Derek, by the time Stiles got to his dad.   
            "Dad what the fuck!"   
His father shook out his hand as if it hadn't happened.   
Derek didn't touch his jaw but it looked like he wanted to.  
            "That's for putting my son in danger," Stiles' father said.   
Derek half turned to the group still gathered behind him.   
            "It's fine," he snapped.   
There was a growl of dissent but eventually they were all human again.   In appearance at least.   
Derek flexed his jaw before cautiously offering his hand again.  
            "Can we start fresh?"  
His father heaved a long suffering sigh that could only come with dealing with the shit storm Stiles laid on his doorstep continually.   
He shook Derek's hand firmly and Stiles resisted the urge to smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TOTALLY UNEDITED I AM SORRY.
> 
> ALSO SORRY FOR PAPA S' MOODINESS OKAY.
> 
> SORRY.
> 
> AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS IS GOING SO YEAH. IF YOU HAVE ANY SCENE REQUESTS PLEASE DO LET ME KNOW. 
> 
> AND ONCE AGAIN BECAUSE I FEEL SHIT FOR NOT RESPONDING TO REVIEWS TUMBLR IS GOOD TO TALK TO ME. IDK WHY HOTLINKING IS NOT WORKING I TRIED GUYS. BUT ANNBER.TUMBLR.COM/ASK. JUST GO THERE.
> 
> THANK YOUUUUUUU.


	26. And it isn't Gonna Stop

            "I can't believe my dad punched you in the face," Stiles complained, fingers running over Derek's cheek.  
Derek huffed before catching his fingers and kissing them briefly.  
            "I can't believe Curtis is already sucking up buying his favorite beer."   
            "Speaking of how did he even know my dad's favorite beer?"   
Derek averted his eyes quickly.  
            "I have no idea," he said, too calmly.  
            "Oh my god did you just lie to me?" Stiles questioned, smacking his shoulder.   
Derek didn't answer, mouth curling oddly.    
            "You so did!  Dad where's your gun?"  
            "Hey not funny," Derek muttered, eyebrows moving up.  
            "Yes it is, he can't hear me."  Stiles backed up a step and crossed his arms.  "How did he know?"   
            "We might have done a bit of surveillance."  
            "You stalked my dad?" Stiles hissed.   
            "Just a bit," Derek emphasized, looking away again.   
            "Oh my god when did this become my life," Stiles whined, one hand slapping to his forehead.   
            "Stiles finish up in there we're having target practice out back!" his father hollered, the back door opening and clapping closed again.   
            "What."   
Derek just shrugged at him, a little helplessly.   
            "Curtis is such a little butt kisser," Stiles hissed.  
            "Butt kisser?" Derek prompted, lips curled.   
            "Well I don't know who's listening do I?" Stiles returned.  "Target practice are they even serious?" 

They were serious.   
By the time Stiles and Derek made their way behind the house they'd already dragged targets out.   
Curtis and his father were standing close together, his father apparently listening attentively as Curtis spoke, a gun hanging from one hand.   
Stiles heaved a sigh and wandered over to where Henry had set up a few folding chairs.   
            "They're gonna be at this a while aren't they?"   
Henry nodded with a slight smirk and Stiles sighed again before checking his phone for texts.   
Nothing of course.  
            "So who's the best shot?" Stiles questioned, putting his phone away and looking back to Henry.   
Henry's lips twitched.  
            "I am," he said simply.   
            "Is that why you're sitting out?"  
He nodded again.   
            "Cool," Stiles offered finally, at a loss for something else to say.   
He'd only had brief introductions before tugging Derek into the kitchen and he knew nothing about Henry beyond his name.  He was pale and slim, face almost gentle.  Still Stiles didn't doubt that he was a crack shot, not for a moment.  There was just this edge about him.   
            "Stiles," Henry said hesitantly, eyes watching Eden in the distance, "do you mind if I scent you?"   
            "Uh," Stiles choked out, "can we maybe save the wolfy stuff until after my dad leaves?"  
Henry nodded his acquiescence and they lapsed into another silence.   
Everyone doing target practice had gone through their first round before Henry spoke again.  
            "You wouldn't mind if I did though?"   
Stiles tugged his gaze from Derek, a bit unwillingly.  
            "No.  I mean…I've only ever been scented by Derek but I'm assuming this wouldn't be quite the same level."   
Henry was smirking again.  
            "Not at all."   
Derek wasn't protesting and Stiles was more than sure he was listening so he wasn't worried.

            "Can I show you?"   
Stiles glanced back to where his father was lining up his shot.  
            "If you can make it quick," Stiles hazarded.   
Henry grasped his wrist quickly before sliding his palm under Stiles' forearm, slipping into his sleeve easily.  His palm curled, fingertips gripping just barely.  He began a downward slide, hands tangling for a short second before Henry's hand disappeared again.  
            "Nice and easy," Henry offered.  "Scenting isn't common in large packs but we're a small pack here."   
Stiles found himself smiling and hoped it didn't look too stupid.  
            "I don't mind.  I was expecting a bit more actually."   
            "Well everyone else still has to scent you," Henry pointed out, "and then Derek will be just a tiny bit more…ah…territorial."   
            "Heh," Stiles let out, smiling more.  "I don't mind that either."   
            "You say that now," Henry said lightly.   
People started drifting over between turns, each of them barely pausing long enough to scent Stiles before going back.    
Stiles was still surprised at how little it took to appease them and while Derek didn't come over, his aim steadily worsened.   
Stiles probably felt a bit too smug in reaction.   
Stiles' father didn't comment but Stiles had the feeling he knew more than he let on.  He almost always did anyways.   
Eventually everyone got tired of shooting things and more chairs were dragged out, beers passed around.   
Stiles didn't even joke about having one, still trying to behave.  
His dad was to his right and Derek to his left, a respectable distance away but still within arm's reach.     
            "Not too shabby Son.  Not too shabby."   
Stiles resisted rolling his eyes quickly.  
            "You just like them cause they let you shoot stuff."   
            "Shooting stuff for free and ending without bloodshed is a win for everyone Son."   
Stiles' eyes narrowed slightly.   
            "If you-"  
            "And I didn’t shoot the mutt you brought home with you so you're welcome."   
A few people laughed and Stiles' father smiled around his beer.   
            "You're awful," Stiles complained.   
            "I repeat I didn't shoot him.  Cool dad points for me."   
There was more laughter and Stiles paused to wonder if the pack was honestly amused or if they were just following Curtis' lead and sucking up.   
Oddly enough he hoped it wasn't the latter. 

            "In any case," Curtis cut in, "I'm glad you seem to approve of us."   
            "I don't have a huge amount of leeway," his father answered, taking a swig, "but yeah you're not so bad."   
            "Approved by the law in Beacon Hills," Landon grinned, tapping his beer to Eden's, "we've got it made."   
Eden rolled her eyes in response, laughing and growling in quick succession when Landon pinched her.   
Landon snapped his teeth before kissing her cheek and Stiles averted his eyes.   
Derek's hand rested on the back of his neck for a second, sliding away as Stiles' father glanced to him.   
Stiles lifted one shoulder in a shrug and his father took another sip of beer.   
            "I do hope you'll consider joining our pack," Curtis added hesitantly, "someday."   
            "If my son's pack, I'm pack."   
Stiles' chest inflated with pride until it threatened to crack.  
            "Well then," Curtis chuckled, "that was easy."   
            "Henry and I have some things to discuss on Monday but that's for Monday."   
            "Good to know," Henry said dryly.   
            "I'll make sure he doesn't take any of his weapons," Devon offered.   
            "I think I can handle myself."   
Henry arched a brow; lips curving so slow Stiles fought the urge to shiver.   
He was stupidly glad Henry was in their pack and not outside it.   
            "Don't worry Boss.  Won't ever need to prove you wrong."   
            "If I was fifteen years younger," Stiles' father said loftily and Stiles found himself grinning.

The conversation more or less degenerated into an argument about who had actually won target practice and it was only about half an hour before Stiles' father pushed out of his chair.  
            "Well this went much better than I thought it would, honestly.  But my son is still grounded and I need to get him home."   
Stiles groaned, glaring as a few more chuckles sounded around the circle.  
            "Dad seriously?"   
            "You still lied to me Son.  Don't you and Derek need to have a discussion anyways?"   
Derek's eyebrows moved up and down rapidly and Stiles groaned again.   
            "Oh my god Dad."   
            "I'll be in the car.  Five minutes."   
            "I hate everything," Stiles groaned.   
            "What discussion do we need to have?"  
Stiles chewed at his lips a moment before simply blurting,  
            "He wants to know why we didn't use protection."  
            "Christ Stiles I'm not even out of earshot!"     
Devon was the first to react, pushing backwards so hard he tipped his chair.  
            "Wow," Grace let out.  
            "Okay we're gonna give you guys some privacy," Curtis added, standing as well.   
            "Yeah thanks," Derek said blankly.  
            "So anyways," Stiles muttered miserably as everyone else evacuated.   
            "Condoms," Derek said.  And he began laughing so quietly all Stiles could do was stare.  "I'm a werewolf and your father is asking about condoms."   
            "I fail to see the humor," Stiles tried not to huff and failed, "it was a mortifying conversation."   
            "I imagine it was," Derek managed, still laughing.   
            "At least I can assume by your obvious enjoyment of the situation that you don't have herpes."   
Derek made a visible attempt to sober at that, failing after a beat.   
            "Fine I'm going home," Stiles said, kicking at Derek before pushing out of his chair.   
            "Okay, okay, wait."  Derek caught him easily, tugging him backwards.  "I'm sorry," he added, lips barely curved.   
            "Yeah you sound sorry." 

Derek turned him back slowly, looking just a bit remorseful.   
            "You'll laugh eventually-"  
            "Will not."  
            "But I am sorry," Derek finished.   
Stiles snorted quietly.   
            "I've never been tested," Derek admitted.  "It was never really a concern."   
Stiles blinked at him.  
            "Why not?"  
Derek blinked at him a few times.  
            "Because," he said haltingly, cheeks tinged pink, "you were…my first."   
Stiles couldn't help it, his jaw dropped.   
            " _What_?" he yelped.   
Derek ducked his chin and pulled a hand through his hair, still looking at the ground when he spoke again.  
            "I already told you you were my first mate Stiles.  Jesus."  
Stiles managed to gape for a few more moments.  
            "Well…yeah.  First _mate_ but I thought that you'd at least…at some point…"   
            "Well I hadn't," Derek asserted, crossing his arms over his chest.  
            "Oh," Stiles allowed.   
Nearly a minute passed in silence until Stiles couldn't bear it.  
            "That's adorable," he said.  
Derek scoffed.   
            "What?  It is!"   
            "And if I said you being a virgin was adorable?" Derek countered, eyebrows pushing together.  
Stiles felt his face burn and looked away quickly.  
            "That's different," he insisted, "I don't…look like you do.  I haven't had the opportunities!"   
            "Opportunities?"  How did he make it sound like a bad word?  "In case you've forgotten my dick expands when I have sex!"   
Stiles huffed.  
            "Well I still don't look like I fell out of a lumberjack long john catalogue!"  
            "I don't even think I know what that means," Derek returned, lips pursing.   
            "You don't have to know you get my point." 

Derek's frown only deepened.  
            "No I don't."   
            "What?  Of course you do!  Look at you you're like a walking Abercrombie and Fitch ad."  
            "Am I supposed to know what that means," Derek questioned blankly.  
            "Derek you're hot for god's sakes."   
            "So are you."  
It was Stiles' turn to scowl.  
            "Am not and anyways you're biased."  
            "So are you."   
            "Oh my god I think this is the stupidest fight we've ever had.  Just for my sanity.  You are hot.  I am invisible.  Okay?  Okay."   
Derek was still frowning and Stiles groaned.   
            "Just agree with me because I have to go and I don't know when I'm going to see you again so just let's not be mad especially over something stupid okay?"   
Derek seemed to consider this for a long moment before nodding once.  
            "Okay.  But I wanted you the first time I saw you.  In case you forgot."   
He kissed Stiles before he could protest, one hand spanning across the small of his back.   
They both jerked as the horn sounded from around the house.   
Stiles sighed and rested his forehead on Derek's for a second.  
            "Oh fuck you very much," he sighed.   
Derek's shoulders shook with silent laughter.  
            "Get going before he decides to start target practice again.  I'll see you soon."  
One quick peck of a kiss and Stiles' lips curled just a bit.  
            "See you." 

            "So?" his father prompted, flipping a neat U turn before heading back down the driveway.  
            "He's clean," Stiles murmured, unable to completely kill his smile.  
            "He showed you results?"   
            "What?" Stiles questioned, distracted, "No.  I was his first."   
He was still oddly proud of it but still tried to stop smiling if for nothing else than the fact that he was once again discussing his sex life with his father.   
            "He was- A boy that looks like- Huh."   
            "Pretty much what I said."   
            "Forget I said that.  It's definitely creepy that I said that."   
Stiles couldn't help a quick laugh.  
            "Just don't start talking about how you didn't mean to insult me and of course I'm attractive too and we're good."   
            "Well now I wouldn't lie to you Son your eyes have always been a bit too big for your head and your mouth just goes a million miles a minute you know and-" he cut off, laughing as Stiles punched his arm.  "Driving," he chuckled, "no punching the driver."   
            "Thanks so much for that boost of confidence Dad really," Stiles huffed out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes.  
            "Seriously though you were an odd lookin' kid.  You've seen the pictures."   
            "Yeah I've seen your pictures too and I know very well which parent I got my looks from."   
His father smiled before sighing softly.  
            "You got me there."

Stiles wasn't good at being grounded.  Not that that came as a surprise.  He wasn't good at sitting still in the first place.  And he was absolutely wretched at being bored.  He liked to think it wasn't his fault that he was going mad.  Really he couldn't be blamed.  Anyone that knew Stiles for more than five minutes knew he couldn't be locked away in the same room for hours on end.  Or…house.  It was all the same really.  
            "Stiles," Derek sighed, answering on the fourth ring.  
Stiles winced, he was being annoying, he knew.  
            "Derek…" he whined in response.  
Already being annoying no reason to filter himself then.  
            "I can't come see you.  You know that."  
            "He won't even know!"  
            "We don't know that.  Your father set the rules.  We don't know what happens if we break them."  
            "But I'm so bored!  And fucking lonely okay?  It's like…" he drifted, unsure.  "It's like my body is lost without yours or something."  
Derek was quiet a long moment.  
            "I know.  I feel the same."  
The admission soothed him just a little.  
            "I'm here," Derek said, "I'm right here."  
            "I know."  Stiles turned and sank onto his bed.  "I know-I know that."  
Derek sighed.  
Stiles tossed himself backwards.  
            "I'm just going stir crazy," he admitted, eyelids fluttering closed.  
            "Haven't you been grounded before?" Derek prompted.  
            "Not like this."  Stiles sighed again.  "Usually he lets it slide after like…four days max.  This is something else entirely."  
            "It's only been five days."  
            "And he shows no sign of weakening.  At all."  
            "Well…"  
            "Yeah werewolf virginity taking.  I remember."   
            "Eloquent as always," Derek snorted.   
            "Shut up," Stiles grunted.  It was a weak response but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

When Stiles' father arrived home he was pacing in the hall waiting.  
            "Can Derek come over for dinner?" he blurted before his father had said a word.   
            "Sti-"  
            " _Daaaaaaaad_.  It's been five days and I haven't seen him even once come on if you don't give a little I'm going to have to sneak out and do something highly irresponsible and/or stupid and then we'll have to start this _whole_ process over again and is that what you want?  Really?  Is that what you really really want?"  Stiles squinted at him, lips firmly set in a pout the second they closed.   
His father grimaced in response.   
            "You really haven't seen him in five days?" his father questioned, expression still pained.   
            "We've only talked on the phone.  The _phone_ Dad."   
            "You're lucky I left you that," his father said, shedding his jacket and edging past Stiles to drop onto the couch.   
Stiles bit back a sarcastic comment.  It didn't bode well to taunt the person you were currently begging.   
His father heaved a sigh, one hand running down his face before tugging his collar open.  
            "Son I'm tired.  It was a long day.  The two of you can go out for dinner.  Somewhere public.  As long as you're home by 8:30."   
            "Wait are you serious?"   
His father leveled one of his more neutral glares and Stiles tossed up a fist in victory before scrambling upstairs for his phone and shoes.   
            "I love you!" he cried joyously, racing back down the stairs and nearly tripping over Gus' tail on his way to the door.   
            "Don't you dare speed," his father said seriously.   
            "Like I would," Stiles snorted, letting the door snap closed instead of staying to argue. 

He didn't speed.  Much.  But he did make it to Derek's under fifteen minutes.  He figured that was the important part.   
Derek was waiting at the end of the driveway, grinning at him.   
Stiles barely parked, leaving the keys in the ignition, before running full tilt towards him.  He shifted at the last moment possible, shoulder connecting solidly with Derek's chest as he tackled him to the ground.   
            "How'd you know I was coming?" he demanded, sitting up to straddle Derek.   
            "Devon was running perimeter, saw you coming."  Derek's eyebrows were battling between happy and irritated and Stiles couldn't help a laugh.  
            "Why do you need to run perimeter?" he questioned, leaning closer.   
            "Old habits die hard," Derek returned, one hand slipping up the back of his neck.  He yanked Stiles down before slotting their mouths together.   
Stiles groaned into the kiss, skin tingling all along his body.  His muscles relaxed in a way that felt like they were settling back into the way they were meant to be and he more or less flopped onto Derek.   
            "Missed you."   
Derek hummed agreement, hands slipping under Stiles' shirt and spanning across his back.   
            "And we have like four hours," Stiles added.   
            "Just stay here for a couple minutes," Derek said.   
            "And cuddle you?" Stiles offered, smirking.   
Derek pinched him before rubbing the burning skin.  
            "Yes," he exhaled, pulling Stiles tighter against him.   
They laid there for what felt like an hour and Stiles honestly didn't know if Derek was scenting him or just enjoying the press of their bodies.   
            "Okay," Stiles finally said, pushing himself up regretfully.  "Dinner.  In public.  Official date.  Let's do this."   
Derek squinted up at him.  
            "Your father specified public didn't he?"   
            "Is that hypothetical or did you actually want me to answer?"   
            "Of course he did," Derek sighed.   
            "Come on.  Take me someplace fancy."

They ended up in one of the fancier restaurants in Beacon Hills, hostess giving them, Stiles at least, a dirty look and everything.   
            "At least there's not many people here," Derek grimaced as they sat.   
            "Ashamed to be seen with me?" Stiles joked, grinning.   
Derek didn't dignify him with a response, opening his obnoxiously large menu instead.   
Stiles was about to pick up his menu, distracted by a sudden call of,  
            "Stilinski?"   
He jerked up to see Danny watching him with wide eyes, pulling his napkin off his lap and climbing out of his seat to cross to them.   
 _Oh_.  Stiles managed to think.  _Oh shit_.  _Shit, shit, shit_.   
Sure of course.  Why wouldn't the guy that Stiles had made out with a few weeks ago just pop up on his first official date with Derek.  Right.  Why not.   
            "D-Danny," Stiles croaked, voice cracking.   
 _Fucking-just-fuck me._  
            "Stiles," Danny returned, smiling enough for his dimples to show.  "Didn't expect to see you here."   
            "No…this is certainly haha a surprise."   
He reached for his glass before realizing it had yet to be filled, still sitting upside down on the table.  Retracting his hand awkwardly Stiles glanced to Derek, still behind his menu, before looking to Danny again.   
            "So uh um what are you doing here?"   
            "Jackson and I come here all the time," Danny said easily, half gesturing to the table where Jackson still sat, watching them discreetly.  "The question is what are you doing here?"   
Stiles was silent a long moment.   
Then several more long moments.  
He was horribly undecided.   
Danny's eyebrows inched up and Stiles desperately wished the menus weren't so huge so he could see Derek's face and try to gage even an iota of what he was thinking.   
 _Fast like a band-aid._  
            "This is myboyfriend," he blurted, foot bouncing against the floor in a rapid rhythm.  "Derek."   
No one moved.  
Stiles thought that maybe no one in the entire restaurant moved.   
            "Derek this is Danny."  _The guy that I have absolutely never ever kissed_ he managed to keep silent. 

Derek lowered his menu slowly before folding it closed and offering his hand.  
Danny didn't move, staring at Derek with wide eyes.   
Stiles snuck a glance to Jackson.   
His jaw was hanging open.   
            "Did you have something against shaking hands?" Derek questioned innocently enough.  
Stiles tried to kick him under the table, biting his tongue when he caught the table support instead.   
            "Not at all," Danny said, lips curling slowly.  
Derek smirked too but Stiles wasn't sure if it was in reaction to him kicking the table or Danny being so…stunned.    
It was a little offensive frankly.   
Danny took Derek's hand and shook it, not letting go as Derek turned to smile at him.   
            "Nice to meet you Danny."   
            "Uh huh," Danny returned, still shaking his hand.   
            "You did catch the part where I said _my_ boyfriend…right?"   
            "Totally."   
Danny was still shaking Derek's hand.   
Derek's smile only widened.   
            "Danny."  
            "Mm."   
            "You can let go now."   
Danny dropped Derek's hand as if it had burned him, cheeks darkening.   
            "My bad," he laughed softly.  "I just-wow.  Yeah wow pretty much covers it.  Good work Stiles."  
   
Stiles huffed quietly.   
            "I can see why you'd be hung up over him."   
            "Oh my god."   
            "Hung up?" Derek questioned, eyes narrowing with a new interest.   
            "No!" Stiles all but yelled.  "We are _not_ discussing that.  Ever.  Danny if you don't get away from us I will tackle you every fucking day in practice I don't care what anyone says."   
            "Yeah right the other guys would pulverize you."   
            "I will put dead fish in your locker!"   
            "You'll get suspended."   
Stiles inhaled deeply.  
            "Danny.  I know how to make murder look like an accident."   
            "Yeah sure."   
            "I swear to all that is good and holy, including S'mores Pop-Tarts, I will make you regret it every day for the rest of your life.  Somehow."  
            "S'mores?  Must be serious," Danny grinned.  "C'mon you know I wouldn't do that to you Stiles.  Enjoy your date."   
Derek's smile finally fell off as Danny turned and walked away.  
Stiles sagged back into his chair, nearly falling out of it when someone finally appeared to fill their waters.   
            "So how were you hung up on me?" Derek questioned as the waiter disappeared again.   
Stiles laughed once before taking a gulp of water.  
            "Nope.  Never.  That one is going to the grave."   
Derek only looked disappointed for a moment.  Then his expression shifted to determined.   
Stiles picked up his menu and steadfastly ignored him.  
            "I'll get it out of you eventually.  You know I will."   
            "Trust me you don't want to know."   
The waiter cut off whatever Derek might have responded with, coming back to take their orders.   
            "Let's talk about something else," Derek suggested eventually.   
            "Okay," Stiles agreed tentatively.   
            "You introduced me as your boyfriend."   
Stiles ducked his face instinctively, cheeks burning.   
            "Yeah."   
            "I liked it."   
Stiles' lips curled.   
            "Yeah?"   
            "Wouldn't you?"   
Stiles bit at his lip for a short moment.  
            "The look on Jackson's face was pretty amusing."   
            "The one that looks like he's made of plastic?" Derek enquired.   
Stiles nearly choked on his laugh.   
            "Yeah that one.  Grade A douche that he is."   
            "He's not saying very flattering things."   
Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.  
            "I wouldn't expect him to." 

Derek's knuckles cracked as his fingers curled.   
            "I don't want to know what he just said, do I?"  
            "No," Derek agreed, lips pressing thin.   
            "You should probably stop eavesdropping because I can nearly guarantee it's going to get worse."   
            "Would anyone miss him?" Derek questioned after another moment, eyes flaring.  
            "Dude put the eyes away," Stiles hissed, leaning forward.   
Derek visibly controlled himself.   
            "You didn't answer my question," he said, lips quirking barely.   
            "He's the captain of our lacrosse team," Stiles allowed, "the entire student body would be devastated."   
            "Teenagers have short attention spans."   
            "His parents are rich and my dad would have to investigate his murder."   
            "I didn't say anything about leaving a body to find.  I'm sure Henry and Landon would help me."   
Stiles stared at him for several minutes, still unable to tell if he was kidding or not.   
            "You do know that murder is not a solution to high school problems, right?"   
            "Still the idea is appealing," Derek allowed.   
            "He's an asshat.  Don't let it get to you."   
            "You know what might help me get over it?"   
Stiles squinted at him.   
            "Don't even suggest it.  I'm not telling you."   
            "Had a feeling you wouldn't make it that easy."   
            "When have I ever made things easy?"   
Derek laughed once, sharply.  
            "You do have a point." 

They stayed at the restaurant much longer than Stiles had planned, Derek mostly talking quickly and quietly about his pack back in Maine.  There was a little smile curving his lips as he spoke and it was one Stiles hadn't seen before.  He could get used to it.   
He wanted to get used to it.   
It was almost scary.   
He was sitting just a small table across from Derek but…  He wanted.  He wanted so much.  
His free hand curled in his lap, seeking and finding nothing to soothe it.  His fingers only twisted against themselves, the familiar rasp of his own palm.  
It was a delicate twisting ache.   
            "It still doesn't feel possible," he mused finally.   
Derek hummed, one eyebrow arching.   
            "For us to both be here," he clarified.  "Together."   
Derek smiled, eyes crinkling with it.   
            "My mother is immensely pleased with herself."   
Stiles grinned.   
            "She should be really.  I mean how did you not suspect anything?"   
Derek scowled quickly.   
            "I didn't want to know," he admitted at length.  "To be so close to you…to know that I was so _close_ -" his lips pressed taut and his eyes fell to the tabletop.  "I was sure that I wouldn't be able to stay away, even though I was desperate to."   
            "This is depressing," Stiles said awkwardly, reaching for his glass and nearly tipping it over.   
            "But it would be the perfect time to discuss-"  
            "No."   
Derek regarded him silently again.   
            "What if I told you something embarrassing?"   
            "It would never come close."   
            "I really doubt that."   
            "Too bad we won't find out."  
Stiles took a large sip of water, swallowing slowly.   
            "Don't you want to know?"   
            "No."   
But Derek smirked at the obvious lie.   
            "Hate you," Stiles added, taking another sip and frowning as ice cubes slid into his lips.   
Derek pushed his glass towards Stiles, lips still crooked.      

            "You want to tell me," Derek said, ignoring the waiter's subtle glare as he returned to fill both glasses, replacing Derek's where it belonged.   
Stiles' laugh was very nearly hollow.  
            "I really don't."   
            "I think you think you don't.  But you really do."   
            "Thanks for that Dr. Phil."   
            "What's the worst that could happen?" Derek prompted.   
            "Instantaneous death," Stiles shot back.   
            "Stiles," Derek murmured, pinning him with a sharp look.  "Aren't we past the point of secrets?"   
Stiles grimaced at him.  That was a low blow.   
The silence lasted a painfully long time.   
            "Fine."   
Stiles fidgeted in his chair briefly before crossing his arms over his chest.  
            "But I warned you.  You don't want to know."   
Derek simply gestured for him to continue.   
            "And you're telling me yours too," Stiles hedged, shifting again.   
Derek nodded, expression patient.   
            "Okay well.  I was buzzed.  Or drunk.  I mean.  Definitely closer to drunk."   
Stiles had to look away as Derek's eyebrows lifted.   
            "And I was at this party.  And I maybe.  Mostly.  Ended up.  Making out with Danny."   
Derek's silence was painful again.   
            "That Danny?" he finally questioned, one thumb hooking over his shoulder briefly.   
Stiles managed a weak nod in response.   
Derek shifted as well, one hand settling flat against the tabletop.  
            "Hm," he let out.   
            "I told you you didn't want to know," Stiles said in a rush.   
            "It was just kissing?"   
            "Yeah," Stiles admitted miserably, "and then we talked about you."   
            "Not as bad as mine," Derek said finally.   
Ever muscle snapped tense.  
            "What?"   
            "We should go," Derek pushed back from the table, standing, "you have a curfew."   
Stiles was too stunned to follow immediately, stumbling to catch up. 

Derek snatched the keys right from Stiles' pocket as they left the restaurant, opening his door for him and gesturing for him to get in.   
            "Wait aren't you coming?" Stiles demanded.   
            "I could use a run," Derek said, leaning against the door.   
            "You don't get to leave without telling me yours."   
Derek's lips curled and he glanced away.   
            "Yeah alright."   
He shifted closer, tilting his body towards Stiles'.   
            "When I packed," he murmured, lips twisting, "I took one of your shirts with me."   
Stiles went hot all over, lips pressing tight against his teeth as he grinned.   
            "Yeah?"  It came out much more breathless than he had intended.   
            "Uh huh."   
He looked away again, cheeks flushed.   
            "You're embarrassed by that?" Stiles questioned, quieter.  Derek didn't really have to answer, Stiles already knew.  "I mean it's like a scent thing isn't it?"   
            "I still sleep with it," Derek told him, eyes wide and arresting.   
Stiles couldn't respond for a second that seemed to pass in slow motion.   
            "You could have a new one," was the first thing he said.  Which was not what he meant to say at all.  "What I mean to say," he said, clearing his throat, "is I miss sleeping with you too."   
The kiss was barely a press of lips at all.   
            "I love you," Derek whispered in his ear.   
Stiles' hands landed haphazardly on his ribs, trying to tug him closer.   
            "Me too," he returned urgently.   
            "I have to go," Derek added, unmoving.   
            "I could be-a little, just a little late," Stiles argued.   
He was practically half off his seat, clinging to Derek.   
            "I'll call you before I go to sleep," Derek offered, fingertips curling over the side of his neck and settling at the nape.   
            "Okay," Stiles sighed, deflating.   
            "See you."  
One last press of lips, another tease, and Derek was pushing off the jeep.  He closed the door firmly before crossing the parking lot and disappearing from view. 

Stiles was home ten minutes early, his father snorted awake on the couch before glancing to his watch, still horizontal.  
            "I'm impressed," he rasped.   
            "Ha ha," Stiles let out hollowly.  "We had a lovely, wholesome time," he promised after another moment.  "Thanks Dad."   
            "There's the part I was waiting for," his father said, sitting up slowly and pushing off the couch even slower.  "You're welcome.  Goodnight Son."   
Stiles was half up the stairs when his phone started vibrating in his pocket.   
            "Hey Scott, what's up?"   
            "Stiles who the hell is this dude?!"   
Stiles paused, frowning.  
            "What dude?  What are you talking about?  Scott did you have another accident with the dumbbells?  I _told_ you you need a spotter."   
            "This dude on Facebook!  That you're out to dinner with?  The picture Danny posted?  Saying you were officially out?  Do you know what I'm talking about yet?"      
            "You're Facebook friends with Danny?"   
            "Stiles don't avoid the question!  And everyone's Facebook friends with Danny."   
            "I'm not," Stiles protested.   
            "Stiles I swear to god-"  
            "Calm down already.  It's just Derek."   
Scott was silent for a long moment.   
            "Just.  Derek."   
Stiles forced a weak laugh.  
            "Didn't I tell you he was in town?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LATE.  
> FINALS.
> 
> THAT IS ALL.
> 
> ALSO I'M SORRY I'M SO SHY/HORRIBLE AT DEALING WITH THE PRESSURE AND I'M TRYING OKAY?  
> (still sorry if this is horrible YES I HAVE TO SAY IT meep)
> 
> LET ME LOVE ALL OF YOU. 
> 
> THANK YOU!


	27. Where Do You Go When You're Lonely

Scott made unintelligible sounds for nearly three minutes; Stiles made it back to his room and started timing it.   
            "I'm coming over!" Scott finally huffed, fumbling with his phone as the call disconnected.   
Stiles covered his face and groaned.   
Guilt surged in his stomach and sloshed around for a bit.   
He'd been sort of ignoring Scott for the past…two weeks.  But Scott had been busy.  On vacation.  And then.  Busy.  Yeah.  Scott had been busy too.  This wasn't all on Stiles.  Not at all.   
Another groan and he flopped into his computer chair before opening his laptop.   
            "Okay," he murmured to himself, "let's do this."   
He forced his hands to move, reopening his minimized browser and opening yet another new tab.   
He wasn't panicking.  He was forcing himself not to panic.   
Facebook loaded fast enough and Stiles' heart was pounding in his chest.   
He had seven friend requests.   
Weird.   
He opened them in a new tab before scrolling through his feed.   
Nothing suspicious so far.   
Teeth digging into his bottom lip he searched out Danny's profile and clicked it.   
Foot beginning to rock against the floor he scrolled past the text posts until he saw it.   
True to Scott's word there they were.  Stiles and Derek sharing that tiny table.   
The picture was dim but not dim enough.   
His stomach twisted uncomfortably and he sat back.   
It was a couple minutes later that he finally looked to the comment on the picture, biting his lip again.   
 _Ran into Stiles and his boyfriend at dinner :)  
_ Well then.   
Five comments and twelve likes.   
Stiles' eyebrows rose at that.   
Four of the comments were about Derek.  Either wondering about him or commenting on how hot he was.  Stiles wasn't surprised.  There was one _Way to go Stilinski…_ though and that was sort of nice really. 

His computer dinged and the chat window popped up, Stiles' jaw dropping open when he saw Danny's name.   
 _hey  
 **I thought you could only chat with friends…  
**_ Stiles typed back.  
 _we are friends :)  
_ Stiles frowned.  
 ** _since when?_**  
He clicked to his new tab as he waited for a reply; Danny wasn't one of his friend requests.  Weird.  Back in the first tab he navigated to his friends.  True to word there Danny was.   
Danny still hadn't responded.  
 ** _did you hack my profile?  
_** _if they didn't want it hacked they shouldn't make it so easy_  
Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.   
 _that's not what I wanted to talk about anyways  
_ Stiles didn't reply, crossing his arms and waiting.  There were very few things Danny could want to talk about really.   
 _I know it seems like a dick move okay_  
Again Stiles didn't respond.  There wasn't anything to say.   
 _but word would have gotten out  
trust me on that  
and it's better the less time you give people to wonder  
_ Stiles considered this.  They had been in public.  And Beacon Hills wasn't the smallest place in the world but…people talked.   
 ** _I suppose it is better coming from you  
_** _if it helps at all I'm still sorry  
 **thanks for apologizing  
** hey there's a party this weekend at the beach  
you could bring derek  
 **I'll see what I can do  
**_ Stiles typed instead of _hell no_ or even _I'm grounded_.   
The conversation lulled.   
 _if it'll help you can punch me next time you see me  
_ Stiles couldn't help a quick smile.   
 ** _get me a box of s'mores pop tarts and we're good_**    
 _will do :D_

Scott was about as loud as possible coming up the stairs, prompting Gus to bark several times.   
He barely dropped onto Stiles' bed when his father pushed the door open.   
            "Son did you fail to tell Scott you were grounded?"   
            "Well I kind of forgot to tell him about Derek and then Danny sort of outed me on Facebook and yeah."   
His father's eyebrows inched together.  
            "What."   
            "I've been busy," Stiles defended, crossing his arms.   
            "I meant the other thing."   
            "Well I ran into Danny at dinner and then he posted a picture of me and Derek on Facebook introducing Derek as my boyfriend and congratulations everyone knows I'm gay."  He finished this with some spirit fingers, smile wavering as his father glared.   
Scott was wisely staying silent, probably saving the yelling and betrayed puppy face until they were alone again.   
            "Tomorrow you're grounded again.  And I'm going to talk to this Danny kid."   
Stiles didn't bother arguing, nodding meekly instead.   
            "Stiles what the fu-" Scott began as soon as the door closed, "what the _fuck_?" he continued, voice dropping.   
            "I know," Stiles groaned.  "I _know_ I just…everything sort of happened all at once and you were all lacrosse lacrosse lacrosse and it was just sort of easier not to tell you."   
            "It was easier not to tell your best friend that the werewolf you fell in love with is suddenly in town?" Scott questioned all wide eyes and pout.   
            "Well…yeah."   
            "Oh my god you were having _sex_ weren't you?"  He was scandalized and Stiles almost smiled.  He was awfully tempted.   
            "Well…yeah."   
            "I would be really happy for you right now if you weren't such a dick about it," Scott told him in that angry whiny way that really only he could accomplish.     
            "I'm sorry I just-" he paused to sigh.  "I got used to Derek being my world for a long time and when he came back into it it just sort of happened again."   
Scott continued angrily pouting at him for a long time, finally huffing,  
            "Well when do I get to meet him?"   
            "My dad did say I'm not grounded tonight." 

Derek was out of breath when he answered the phone and Stiles squinted.   
            "What are you doing?"   
            "Nothing," he paused to cough, "what's up?"   
            "Scott wants to meet you."   
There was a longer pause.  
            "Is this going to be worse than meeting your father?"   
            "No.  Definitely not."   
            "I'll be right there."   
Still it was twenty minutes before Derek arrived, descending the stairs to find Scott and Stiles camped out in front of the TV, Stiles' Nintendo 64 dragged out of the hall closet.   
            "You just come in through his window?" Scott demanded, blunt as ever.  
Derek didn't even answer him, arching a brow instead.   
            "Dude he's a werewolf," Stiles muttered with an eye roll.   
He paused the game and scrambled off the floor to hug Derek, drawing back almost immediately.   
            "Why are you wet?"   
            "I smelled."   
            "So you went all the way home and took a shower?"   
Derek looked at him like he was being stupid and Stiles stared back stubbornly.  
            "There was a convenient stream."   
            "A stream.  What."   
            "I told you I was going for a run."   
            "Derek we play lacrosse Scott's not gonna care about a little man sweat."   
            "It wasn’t sweat."   
            "Oh my god does he mean blood!" Scott yelled mouth agape in horror.   
            "Of course he doesn't mean blood!"  And then turning back to Derek, "You don't mean blood do you?"   
Derek shook his head.   
            "Okay good," Stiles sighed.  "Derek, Scott, best friend.  Scott, Derek, boyfriend and probable mate." 

Scott's nose wrinkled but he got up to shake Derek's hand anyway.   
            "Nice to meet you," he said politely.  "I've never met a werewolf before."   
            "Not that you know of," Derek returned.  
Scott looked puzzled and then a bit disturbed but shook it off like a champ.  
Awkward silence prevailed then.  
            "Wait are you leaving?" Scott asked and for the longest moment Stiles wasn't sure who was being addressed because Scott was still staring at Derek.  
            "Am _I_?" Stiles squawked, finally catching on.  "No!  Not…yet…at least."  
            "Not yet?"  
And of course Scott latched onto that.  
            "Well probably," Stiles shifted uncomfortably.  "After graduation I mean."   
            "What about college?"  
Scott's cheeks were flushed red and for once Stiles didn't have to work to take his anger seriously.  
            "We don't-I mean…I don't know yet."  
            "We're figuring it out," Derek supplied.  
Scott scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.  
Stiles' stomach curled with guilt.  
            "Well it's not like we had any plans anyway," he defended weakly.  
            "Yeah but I thought we'd figure it out."  
            "We didn't really see this coming," Stiles agreed.  
            "No," Scott said earnestly.  
            "I could…go upstairs for a bit," Derek offered hesitantly.  
At a loss, Stiles simply murmured,  
            "Okay." 

Scott turned away before huffing out another breath and Stiles honestly didn't know what to do.   
            "Scott," he murmured, almost pleading.   
            "Just!  I need a minute."  And Scott sagged back onto the couch, both hands scrabbling through his hair.   
Stiles shifted anxiously back and forth, chewing on his lips.   
Eventually he drifted forward, dropping to sit in front of the couch.   
            "I know I'm not supposed to be mad," Scott muttered eventually.  "I'm supposed to be happy for you and buy you condoms or something else following the bro code but you couldn't even tell me?  And now you're both just going to ride off into the sunset or something?  Come on Stiles."   
            "We're not riding off anywhere," Stiles said, steadfastly ignoring the one two hit of _Derek_ and _riding_.   
            "You just said you're leaving after graduation."  
            "Derek's family is in Maine," Stiles offered weakly.  "I was thinking maybe I'd convince my dad to move out there too."   
Scott was silent for a long time and Stiles reverted to fidgeting again.   
He almost wanted to accuse Scott of cruelty, his best friend knew how Stiles couldn't _bear_ silence, but Stiles had the feeling that he'd majorly fucked up here.   
He kept his mouth mostly shut and waited.   
            "And what about me Stiles.  What was your plan for me."   
His voice was flat.   
Stiles' chest ached.   
            "I don't have a plan for you Scott I can't ask you to pick up your entire life for me," he babbled for a moment before realizing the words sounded hollow and stopped.   
            "I'm not saying I want to move to Maine but you didn't even think about me…doesn't make me feel great.  I wish you would have at least told me or something god Stiles this is big freaking deal and you just didn't even throw me a text?"  
            "I'm telling you now," Stiles mumbled, head dipping to watch his fingers wrestle each other.   
            "Yeah because Danny posted a picture of you on Facebook.  I find out from the guy you're not even friends with _on_ Facebook.  Fucking Jackson Whittemore finds out before me."   
            "I'm sorry."   
            "I've been busy too but I've been texting you," Scott said and it wasn't even really a jab, more of a statement.   
Stiles felt worse.   
            "I asked you to come work out with me like five times.  And don't even say it's not your thing that's not the point."       

He blew out a heavy sigh and shoved hair out of his face.  
            "I'm trying not to be mad.  I'm really.  Trying."   
            "Okay," Stiles said quietly.   
            "But you and me is suddenly you and him and you don't even _tell_ me and now you're going off to Maine in less than ten months and I don't know what to even do with that information Stiles!  How am I supposed to process that!  Are you just going to be gone one morning like-" he cut off suddenly and Stiles' throat constricted.   
            " _No_ ," he gritted out, launching himself up and hugging Scott awkwardly.  He rearranged quickly until they were both more comfortable and clung to his best friend.   
Stiles didn't even care that they hadn't hugged like this since they were both boys.  
            "I'm sorry Scott.  I really am.  You're my best friend and I love you.  I was a douche to just shove you aside and I'm sorry."  
Scott made a quiet sound into his shoulder, almost a whimper and Stiles held him even tighter.   
He took a few deep breaths and finally leaned away.  
            "Okay," he exhaled, "okay.  I'm okay."   
            "I feel awful," Stiles confessed.  "How can I make it up to you?"   
            "Would it be weird if we had some best friend time?" Scott asked quietly.   
            "You wanna stay the night?" Stiles questioned, smiling tentatively.   
Scott's lips curled just barely and he nodded.   
            "Let me go send Derek off.  Two minutes."   
            "Kay but I'm gonna kick your ass while you're gone."   
Stiles rolled his eyes and headed for the stairs.          

Derek was seated on his bed and Stiles could tell by the slope of his shoulders that he'd been listening.  
            "Hey," he offered softly.   
            "Sorry I messed things up."   
            "Whoa no.  This is on me.  This is all on me.  I could have told Scott plenty of times since you got here.  I just…was caught up.  And I honestly forgot."   
Derek was silent for a moment and then,  
            "Are you alright?"   
            "Feel like shit but it's my own fault," Stiles said firmly, sinking down next to him.   
            "Things will work out," Derek offered softly.   
Stiles nodded before resting against Derek's shoulder.  
            "You're the miracle," he sighed, "everything else will just have to fall into place."   
Derek didn't respond so Stiles just let himself relax for a few more moments.  
            "Okay," he sighed, "you have to go."   
            "Alright."  Derek pressed a kiss to his brow and stood.  "Have a good time."   
            "Hey wait," Stiles said as Derek crossed to the window.  
One of Derek's eyebrows arched.   
Stiles grinned at him briefly before tugging his shirt off.  He balled it quickly and tossed it over, laughing once at Derek's flush.   
He jumped out the window without another word, shirt safely tucked into the crook of his arm.   
Stiles laughed again, just to himself.  Then he scooped a shirt off the floor and headed back downstairs.   
Scott was in the process of killing him, again Stiles assumed, and glanced over.  
            "Weren't you wearing a different shirt?"   
Stiles didn't answer; yanking his controller away and picking his own back up.  
Scott gave a quiet yell of outrage, scrambling for it.   
They played video games until two, raided the kitchen, and finally fell into bed together. 

Stiles was surprised when they also woke up together, without the aid of his father.  He fell back against the pillow and tentatively guessed his grounding was over.  He could hope at least.   
Scott groaned before shoving his face into his pillow.  He mumbled something that Stiles had no hope of understanding.  
            "Hm?"  
Scott shifted before kicking him out of bed.  
            "I said go make me breakfast."   
            "Rude," Stiles croaked from the floor.   
            "And I don't mean put Pop-Tarts on a plate Stiles, I'm on a diet."  
            "Rude," Stiles repeated, eventually pushing himself up.  
Stiles made a quick breakfast of egg whites and veggie bacon, piling it on a plate before grabbing his own breakfast and heading upstairs.   
            "Dude that smells amazing," Scott sighed, sitting up.   
            "I wouldn't compliment it until you taste it.  My dad acts like I'm slowly poisoning him."   
            "I've been eating dried fruit and whole grain cereal," Scott said.  "Cereal without marshmallows just isn't natural."   
            "You should probably have more protein," Stiles offered, handing over the plate.   
            "I try to have meat for lunch and dinner.  Plus beef jerky."   
Stiles grimaced for a moment as he tore into his Pop-Tarts.  
            "You're really serious about this first line stuff huh?"   
            "Yeah," Scott grinned around a bite of egg, "I just feel like this is gonna be our year.  You know?  You're back and everything is gonna be great."   
            "I don't understand what first line has to do with that."   
            "Um people would actually know our names?  For something other than your disappearance and cult exposure?"  
Stiles grimaced again.  
            "I've had enough attention."   
            "I'm telling you, first line would be awesome."  
   
Stiles shoved the remainder of the first Pop-Tart in his mouth before face planting on his bed.   
            "I don't want to think about lacrosse.  Lacrosse makes me think of Jackson.  And Jackson was at dinner last night.  And saying awful things.  And Derek threatened to kill him."   
            "Wait what was he saying?" Scott questioned, mouth full again.   
            "Don't know.  He didn't say it in front of us."   
            "Then how do you know?"   
            "Werewolf Scott.  I know you've seen at least one movie to know what that means.  _Werewolf_."  
            "Well does he turn into a wolf on the full moon?"   
            "No he doesn't turn into a wolf.  He just gets kind of wolfy.  And really horny."   
            "Dude.  I'm eating."   
            "You brought it up."   
            "Not uh!  I'm pretty sure if I started talking about rainbows you'd somehow turn it into a discussion about Derek."   
            "Rainbows are the symbol of gay pride," Stiles said thoughtfully.  "Do you think I could get a rainbow hoodie?  What about rainbow seat covers?  Too much?"   
            "You're my best friend but I mostly hate you right now."   
            "I can't help it," Stiles complained half heartedly.  "It's like this whole section of my brain has been delegated to Derek now.  Plus I'm probably going through sex withdrawals or something.  That's a thing right?"   
            "If we're in an afterschool special right now," Scott said with a quick frown.   
            "Sex is so amazing," Stiles explained, morose.  "I miss sex."  He took another bite before frowning again.  "I miss Derek."   
            "Okay," Scott said, pointing a piece of bacon at him, "new rule.  Every time you mention Derek I get to slap you."  
            "And why would I agree to that?" Stiles demanded.   
            "Because this is best friend time and I'm the best friend and I said so."   
            "Those are all really shit reasons," Stiles said but didn't argue further. 

Admittedly, the slap rule wasn't going well for Stiles.   
He had an icepack pressed to his cheek, glaring at Scott.  
Scott was ignoring him.  Pointedly.   
            "I wasn't kidding," Stiles said, a bit relieved his cheek was going numb.  "Whole section of my brain.  Gone.  Useless.  I'm going to fail so many quizzes this year."   
            "It's like you're a zombie except instead of the T-Virus you've got the D-Virus."   
            "I want you to know that I'm deliberately not making a D related joke right now.  You're welcome."   
Scott hit him with a pillow.  
            "I didn't even know you were gay.  What's up with that?"  
Stiles couldn't help it, he laughed.  
            "First of all, I'm bi.  Secondly how are you just now asking me this?"   
            "Well I was kinda shocked and you were talking so fast I didn't want to interrupt you with a stupid question.  Like you had sex with him obviously you're not straight as a ruler."   
Stiles covered his eyes briefly, biting at his curving lips.   
            "Obviously."   
            "I just-you never told me," Scott huffed.   
            "Well it was never a huge deal.  I've always liked both."  Stiles shrugged at him.   
            "You could have told me."   
            "Yeah but we still share a bed occasionally and I see you mostly naked like all the time so it's an awkward conversation to have.  Especially in my head."   
Scott hummed in what Stiles assumed was agreement.  
            "I never told you what kind of porn I like either."   
Scott visibly paled.  
            "You don't just watch regular porn?"  
            "That depends how you define regular."   
            "I'm getting that tingly feeling that I'm going to regret this conversation," Scott said with wide eyes.  "We should go to the gym."   
Stiles groaned.  
            "Best friend time does not include the gym."   
            "Now it does." 

A day later Stiles hadn't seen his father at all.  He would be worried at the lack of contact but Mrs. McCall had been in contact and Stiles had a feeling that she was passing along to his father that he was safe and sound.   
At least Stiles knew for sure he wasn't grounded anymore.   
Scott finally released him from best friend time, after a total of nine hours at the gym, and Stiles was reasonably sure he wasn't being punished anymore.  
He was also reasonably sure he was never going to walk normally again.   
Who opens a 24 hour gym with platinum memberships anyways.   
Furthermore who leaves a gym to go back four hours after _leaving_.   
He groaned softly to himself climbing the stairs.   
Gus appeared at the top, sitting before whining softly.   
            "What," Stiles questioned.   
Gus' tail swished against the floor.  
            "I know you don't have to go out.  You hungry?"   
Gus gave a sharp bark before rushing down the stairs, careful not to knock Stiles over.   
Stiles groaned again but turned to follow him.  
            "Why can't you feed yourself," he complained halfheartedly.  Maybe he was expecting too much.   
Gus plopped down as soon as Stiles put food in the bowl, laying on his belly and eating noisily.   
            "You're getting lazy," Stiles chided.   
He was ignored.   
Stiles grabbed a glass of water and hobbled back to the stairs, taking them even slower.  He stopped in the bathroom for Tylenol before finally making it to his room.   
His lips pulled up into a lazy smile.  
            "What are you doing here?"   
Derek nuzzled the pillow before looking up at him.  
            "Waiting for you.  And maybe napping."   
            "Napping," Stiles groaned, half lunging forward, half falling.   
Derek caught him easily and hauled him onto the bed.   
  
Stiles turned to thank him, pausing when he saw Derek grimace.   
He buried his nose in the pillow again, inhaling deeply.   
            "What are you doing?  I'm right here…a little sweaty…but still."   
A sheepish look passed over Derek's face and Stiles waited for whatever he was about to admit.   
            "I didn't realize," he said haltingly.  "It smells more like when I first met you.  Scott's part of your scent."   
And Stiles didn't get it at first.  
            "You like how Scott smells better than me?"   
Derek actually rolled his eyes.  
            "Of course not.  But his scent is mixed with yours and it's…oddly soothing.  When I first met you I could smell him on you.  I just didn't realize."   
            "Okay I'm fine with the scenting thing and the sleeping with the shirt thing but this is…weird."   
            "Why?" Derek questioned, curious.   
            "Cause he's Scott.  He's my best friend."   
Stiles felt his nose wrinkle.  
            "It's just weird."   
            "He's part of you," Derek said seriously.  "Other than that I don't know him well enough yet."       
            "Scott's a dumbass," Stiles told him affectionately.  
            "His scent makes me nostalgic."   
            "Nostalgic for when we first met?  Why?"   
Derek turned onto his back slowly, looking to Stiles even slower.   
            "Because.  Look where we are now."   
Stiles only had to think a moment before smiling softly.   
            "It is kind of…unbelievable," he sighed, pausing as Derek leaned closer.   
Derek's lips pressed to his neck and Stiles' sighed again.   
            "Don't start something you're not going to finish," Stiles warned, trying to sound stern and failing. 

Derek sighed then, pulling away and laying down again.  
Stiles groaned.   
            "Are you trying to kill me?  I'm a teenage boy I have _needs_."   
            "Your father-"  
            "He's never going to give you express permission to fuck me Derek."   
Derek averted his eyes, mouth pinched.  
            "He's not!" Stiles huffed, shoving out of the bed and then groaning again.  He'd forgotten about all his sore muscles.   
            "Where do you think you're going?" Derek questioned, so patient Stiles wanted to punch him.   
            "I'm gonna go shower or something," Stiles explained, words falling out of his mouth before he'd even thought of them.   
            "What about a massage?"   
            "You mean a massage with a happy ending or a massage where you try and get my brain to implode?"   
            "I don't want your dad walking in on us."   
            "Derek do you want me to beg, I will beg."   
            "I don't want you to beg I want you to come here so I can make you feel better."   
            "Sex would make me feel better," Stiles grumbled, but allowed himself to be pulled back anyways.   
            "You really attached to this shirt?"  
            "Derek don't you dare cut this shirt off me I swear-"  
            "Why not?"   
Derek tossed him to the bed, hands splayed on his ribs, effectively knocking the air from his lungs.   
            "B-Because," this was not going to end well he could feel it, "it's really-ah-distracting."   
Derek's fingers teased under the hem and Stiles shuddered.  
            "Derek I _swear_ -"  
            "What?" he questioned, hovering just over Stiles, "Am I _distracting_ you?"   
            "If this isn't going to end in sex you need to stop," Stiles complained breathlessly.   
            "It's kind of good," Derek returned, "torturous…but good."   
            "I hate you so much right now," Stiles hissed out between his teeth.

Derek's hands slipped further up his shirt, pressing against his chest.   
The fight went out of Stiles suddenly, head lolling into his pillow.  
            "Fuck that feels amazing," he exhaled.   
            "Mm."   
            "I take everything back I love you I love your massages."   
Derek just chuckled, hands sweeping down his stomach, spreading more heat with them.   
            "Do you think your dad will be mad I'm here?"   
            "Don't know," Stiles sighed, "why?"   
            "Because he just pulled into the driveway."   
Stiles jerked upwards, pushed back down by Derek.  
            "We're not doing anything wrong," Derek reminded him, smirking.   
Stiles glared for about two seconds, sagging as Derek's hands slid over his thighs.   
            "How much time-" he started, glancing down and gasping.  "Derek what the hell?" he demanded, too shocked to move.  
            "What?" Derek questioned, pausing.  The black lines twisting over his hands faded and disappeared.   
            "Your hands!" Stiles accused, yanking them up to his eyes and turning them over.   
Derek laughed quickly, tugging his hands away.  
            "It's just me taking your pain away.  It's fine."   
            "Oh," Stiles managed.  "Wait does it hurt you?"   
            "Just for a couple seconds, it's fine," Derek assured him.   
            "What the fuck Derek that is not fine you can't just…do that!"   
Derek frowned at him and pulled away.   
Stiles pushed off the bed again.  
            "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, hearing the door open downstairs and unable to care.   
            "I didn't know it was something we needed to discuss," Derek answered quietly, eyebrows moving together as he frowned.   
            "Yeah I think we need to talk about it!  You think I want you hurting yourself for me?"   
            "What hurts me for a few moments would hurt you for hours think about it Stiles!"   
            "I don't care it's my stupid pain and _I'll_ deal with it." 

Derek was silent a long moment and Stiles suddenly pictured, with stunning clarity really, his father standing at the base of the stairs and shamelessly eavesdropping.   
            "I'm only trying to help you."   
            "I don't want you in pain because of me Derek."  
            "Well I don't want you in pain when I can help you.  If I was hurt you wouldn't help me?"   
            "Yeah I'd get you a bandage or drive you to the hospital or something I wouldn't physically try to suck the pain out of you and feel it myself."   
            "Even if you could?" Derek challenged.   
            "No," Stiles answered.  
Derek scoffed at the lie.   
            "It's my job to take care of you remember?"   
            "I'm not some damsel in distress Derek-"  
            "I never said you were."  Derek sighed quickly, expression relaxing for a short moment.  "I didn't say you need my help I offered it because I wanted to give it to you.  That's all."   
            "But you never told me-"  
            "I didn't try to keep it from you."   
            "The first-"  
            "Things were different then."   
            "God damn it!  Will you stop cutting me off?"   
            "I don't appreciate your assumptions Stiles.  Or the words you're putting in my mouth."  
             
Stiles paused long enough to be surprised his father was still letting them go.   
            "You're being an idiot about this," Derek told him, almost fondly.   
            "I am not."   
Derek waited a beat before speaking and Stiles sort of wanted to hit him.  He also sort of wanted to kiss him.   
            "Most people would thank me you know."   
            "Fuck off," Stiles snapped, trying not to smile.   
            "I would apologize but I'm not sorry."   
            "Just ask next time alright?"   
Derek nodded once, frown finally smoothing out.   
            "I feel like we've been extra snippy lately," Stiles said, reaching out to him.  
            "It's because of the sexual tension," Derek breathed in his ear once he'd closed the distance between them.   
            "We need to stop fighting."  
            "Fighting is good.  It means we both still care."  
Stiles scoffed quickly.   
            "Be honest, you got that out of a paperback romance novel."   
            "Your father's waiting for you," Derek returned, pushing him towards the door.   
            "He's waiting for _us_ because he would prefer that you use the front door."  
            "Yes I would," Stiles' father called up the stairs.   
            "Can I see you tomorrow?" Stiles whispered.   
            "We shouldn't."  
            "Come _on_.  When did you get so responsible?"   
            "Since we're under your father's feet every two seconds," Derek hissed back, stepping towards the door.  
            "Cock tease," Stiles challenged boldly, eyebrows moving up as Derek's jaw fell slack.   
            "I'll see," Derek breathed eventually, slipping out the door before the sheriff got any more suspicious. 

Stiles saw Derek out, perfectly polite for his father.  
Then he turned and readied himself for the lecture.  At least, he assumed a lecture was coming.   
            "You want to tell me what that was about?" his father asked simply.   
            "You were listening," Stiles murmured, without heat, and headed for the kitchen.  
            "Just want to make sure I got it right."   
            "Yes Derek can heal me.  He can take pain away in general I guess.  He just failed to mention that he feels what he takes."   
            "And what pain was he taking?"  
            "Gym with Scott," Stiles grimaced.   
            "Doesn't seem like a big deal."   
Stiles' eyes narrowed quickly.  
            "First of all you're not allowed to take his side, second of all it's not the pain it's that he didn't tell me and he just thinks it's okay to-"  
            "Take care of you?"   
            "Oh my god you're on his side," Stiles groaned.   
            "You're my son," he said, as if Stiles needed reminding.  "And if you're gonna be with someone I'm glad it's someone who seems to want to take care of you.  Even when you're being stupid."   
He paused a moment, thoughtful.   
            "It wasn't staged was it?"   
Stiles actually pulled his head out of the fridge to gape at his father.  
            "Did you seriously just ask me if I staged a fight with my boyfriend for your benefit?"   
            "Well it made Derek look better," his father said unapologetically.   
            "Not allowed to be on his side I already told you that."   
            "Deal with it Son."   
            "Pretty sure he's too old for you to adopt him," Stiles snipped, ducking back into the fridge and peeking behind some celery.   
            "Pretty sure he's too old for you to sleep with him," his father returned, unbothered.   
Stiles' head clunked against the side of the fridge.  
            "Oh my god I hate you."     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you've noticed updates have slowed down.
> 
> Two reasons:  
> my stress level  
> and this is the point in writing the fic when it slows down on its own and just sort of lulls
> 
> I'll be working through it just like always but it might take a while
> 
> Thank you guys so much


	28. I'll Follow You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't want to but warning for BOTTOM!DEREK. 
> 
> I know that's not a lot of peoples' thing so yeah. 
> 
> It's marked off by a nice little   
> ...  
> before and after so you can skip it if you want!

The pack's house was nice.  Stiles wasn't entirely sure if it was just nice or if he was enjoying actually being inside of it without supervision.  In any case…it was nice.    
            "You want anything to drink?" Derek offered, hand straying dangerously close to Stiles' belt already.    
Stiles forced himself to take a breath.    
            "Actually," he could feel each impact of his heart pounding, "yeah.  That'd be good."    
Derek pulled back just a bit, smiling softly.  
            "Okay.  Kitchen's this way."    
He followed him through to the back of the house, leaning against a counter and accepting a glass of water.    
            "Okay?"    
Stiles nodded, heart still pounding.    
He wasn't going to say it out loud, not now.  But he'd made a decision.   
Derek didn't comment further and Stiles wondered if he had figured it out.  Not that it was especially difficult to figure out.  
They were about to have sex and Stiles was fighting off a panic attack.  
If it walks like a duck…  
But it was going to be okay.  It was all going to be okay.  Because Stiles wasn't taking the lead on this one.    
If Derek bit him, he'd bite back.    
Making the decision itself had been rather terrifying and of course he was a bunch of jangling nerves.    
Now it was just a matter of seeing if it _would_ happen.    
Derek shrugged out of his jacket before tossing it over a chair.  He approached slowly and Stiles managed to set the glass on the counter before he sloshed water out of it.    
He paused significantly and Stiles' stomach swooshed downward so fast he felt dizzy.  If Derek offered to back off or said 'we don't have to do anything' he thought he would die.    
            "I'm ready," he said instead.    
_Oh_ Stiles thought, the words hitting him like a visceral strike.    
            "Yeah?" he managed, voice a bit hoarse.    
Derek twined their hands in answer, tugging him back towards the stairs.

They made it to the top of the stairs and just around the corner before Stiles was pressed into the wall, Derek mouthing at his neck.    
He shivered, spine arching and head tilting back.    
Derek's hands were slipping under his shirt and settling low on his belly and Stiles pressed forward, hands moving over Derek too.    
His searching fingertips hit the hilt of Derek's dagger and he carefully wrapped a hand around it before tugging it free.    
Derek's hand caught his wrist and he pulled back enough to shoot him a questioning glance.    
            "No slicing today."    
            "I wasn't aware you minded," Derek returned, lips curling.    
            "I don't," Stiles allowed with an eye roll, "just not today."    
            "There's another under the pillow," Derek said, taking it and balancing it over the banister effortlessly.    
            "Paranoid much?"    
            "Just thought I'd warn you."  
            "Thanks I guess."  
Derek only shrugged before kissing him again.  
Stiles sighed just slightly into it.    
            "Come on," Derek murmured into his jaw, "I want you in my bed."    
            "Fuck yes."  He couldn't help a grin, laughing outright when Derek picked him up and carried him through the next doorway.  "Impatient," he teased even as he wrapped his legs around him, thighs gripping tight.    
Derek's shoulders trembled with laughter but he didn't say anything else, kicking the door shut.    
Curiosity got the better of him and Stiles couldn't help twisting to look around at Derek's room.  
  
A bed was shoved in the far corner, bigger than Stiles' own, and surprisingly made neatly.  Two windows shared the wall opposite them and two doors were on the wall to their left.  A bathroom and, Stiles guessed, a closet.   
            "Does it pass inspection?" Derek asked, nose skimming up along Stiles' throat.    
            "You have a very, ah, sterile sense of style," Stiles worked out, tempted to laugh at how breathless he was.  
Derek set him down on the dresser diagonal from the bed, hands settling on his hips.    
            "Shut up," he hummed.    
            "Ah-make me."    
Fingernails dug in, blunt but making Stiles cry out all the same.    
He arched closer to Derek, wanting more the same moment he wanted to pull back and tease.    
He tried to take a breath, glad his mouth was free for the moment.    
But it had been so long.  So long since they'd been alone.  So long since they'd kissed.  Really kissed.  Tongues rolling together and teeth pinching lips.  And Derek's hands under his clothes.  Fuck his brain was going to short wire just like this.  He didn't want to go slow.  He didn't want to drag this out or try to make it special.  He wanted Derek under him.    
            "Fuck," he ground out, hands twisting in Derek's shirt.  "Derek-fuck."    
            "Relax.  We've got time."    
            "I've never been good with the whole patience thing," Stiles half laughed, "don't you know that by now?"    
            "Want me to take the edge off?"    
            "Doesn't really seem fair," Stiles stalled.    
            "Stiles it's nearly been a month."    
Stiles pulled up an eyebrow because even rounding up you wouldn't make it a month but he let it pass.  Maybe the tension was making it seem longer than it was.    
            "Taking it slow will be good for me," Derek told him, breath ghosting over his throat.  "For…"  His eyes flared and fangs slid out in an apologetic smile.    
Stiles barely bit back a groan.  
            "You're such a cheater."    
            "You trust me?" 

And Stiles wanted to laugh at that.  Just a little.  
            "Yeah," he said anyways, because it seemed like Derek was waiting for an answer.    
Derek hummed quietly, kissing his lips quickly before backing up half a step and slipping right down Stiles' body.    
He already had Stiles belt and jeans open before Stiles even managed a pained little, "Fuck."    
Derek mouthed at him right through the cotton and Stiles' hips fell open, nearly toppling him off the dresser entirely.    
            "Jesus _Christ_."    
Derek was steadying him with one hand, undoing him with his tongue at the same time.    
Stiles slumped in the direction of the wall, almost relieved when his head slapped against it.  
He heard fabric ripping and shuddered, clinging to Derek's shoulder with one hand.    
            "Der _ek_ , fuck-"    
He almost shook right out of his skin as Derek's teeth grazed along the inside of his thigh.  
            "Teeth _teeth fuck_!"    
            "Don't you trust me," Derek repeated, lips pressing against the tingling skin.    
Stiles' laugh was empty.    
            "Of course I do," he huffed out, "but ah-ah what mighty big teeth you have-"  
Derek groaned, sagging to rest against Stiles' thigh.  
            "Tell me you did not just say that."    
            "You can't blame me your teeth are really close to my dick right now."    
            "They've been closer," Derek returned flatly.    
            "Not like that they haven't!"    
            "You like me like this," Derek challenged, blue eyes flashing.    
            "Can we not do the fear as an aphrodisiac thing this time around?"    
Derek sighed at him, fangs slipping up under his lips.    
            "You're ridiculous."    
            "Well established," Stiles smirked. 

Derek stood, hauling Stiles up with hands under his arms, pushing him to the bed.    
            "You told me you liked it."  
            "I do.  Just…not this time."    
Derek's eyes roved down him slowly, lips curling barely.  He closed the distance between them and nosed at Stiles' jaw, a quiet rumble vibrating through his chest.  
            "Yeah, okay."    
Stiles couldn't help a slight tremble.    
            "You gonna help me out of this shirt?" Derek questioned.  
Stiles smiled quickly.  
            "Yeah."    
His fingertips snuck up under the hem, teasing along the dips of muscle.    
Derek pressed another kiss to Stiles' jaw before leaning back and raising his arms.    
Stiles took his time, pushing the fabric higher and higher, eyes racing over each inch revealed.    
This was his.  
Derek was his.  
Finally he was up to Derek's shoulders, easing the collar out of the way.  
Derek smiled, hands settling at the small of Stiles' back.  
            "Thanks."    
            "Any time."    
Derek caught his lips gently, hands slipping down and pushing his jeans away.    
Stiles' belt buckle clicked against the floor and Stiles worked at stepping out of his shoes, laughing into Derek's lips when he steadied him.  His shirt was next to hit the floor.  Then Stiles was pushed onto the bed in nothing but his socks and boxers, which were still gaping open.  
Derek was on him before he'd managed to hook his sock off his heel.    
            "Cheater," he chided as Derek ripped his boxers the rest of the way off.    
Derek ignored him, slotting their hips together.    
Stiles' moan was nearly pained.    
            "God-fuck-I love you so much," he panted out, gripping each side of Derek's face and kissing him hard.    
            "Mm-" Derek gripped him tighter before turning and breathing into Stiles' neck.  "Thought we were taking it slow," he was panting too and Stiles nearly smiled.    
            "Right," Stiles agreed, as if he'd forgotten.  "Guess we're not very good at the slow thing."  
    
Derek hummed again before laying him back.  He slid his hand under the left pillow, knife clattering to the floor, before skimming hands down Stiles' calves and peeling his socks off.  He slid lower, pressing a kiss to Stiles' stomach before easing his thighs apart.    
Stiles whined, toes curling.    
            "Derek…"    
Derek hushed him, lips ghosting down his thigh.    
Stiles' spine bucked up as Derek's lips closed over one of his balls and sucked.  He couldn't help another whine, entire body twisting into a single arch of tension as Derek released him and moved lower.  Gripping the base of his cock desperately he forced himself to inhale.    
_Slow_ he reminded himself.  They were taking this slow.  He could handle this.  He was fine.    
Derek reached under the mattress and came back with lube, flipping it open blindly.    
            "Nice hiding spot," Stiles huffed, giving his cock one stroke before releasing it.    
            "You're complaining it was close by?" Derek questioned, glancing to him for a second.    
            "I'm distracting myself with the words coming out of my mouth actually," Stiles corrected, hand fisting in the pillow behind his head.    
He looked down to see Derek's smirk, one hand settling firmly on his thigh.    
Stiles tried to relax, teeth tugging at his lips.    
A slick finger pressed in and Stiles shuddered.    
            "How's that going for you?" Derek teased, kissing his thigh again.  
            "G-God damn," Stiles exhaled, "I hate you."    
Derek only pressed in further as Stiles' body let him.    
            "You don't."    
            "I do," Stiles lied boldly, squirming under his touch.    
Derek was still smirking.    
            "Do you want to go slow or not?  It's your decision."    
Stiles rolled his eyes, purely at Derek's obvious amusement.    
            "Slow is good," he sighed, dejected.    
Derek grinned before tucking his face into the back of Stiles' knee and biting lightly.    
  
He gave Stiles' thigh a squeeze before withdrawing his finger and sliding back in.  
            "Slow," Stiles told him, "not glacial."    
He added a second finger and Stiles yelped.    
Smacking Derek only increased the pressure as his body twisted and he fell back to the mattress with a groan.  He squirmed again, lifting his hips and spreading his thighs.    
            "Now who's eager?" Derek's voice was strained.  
Stiles couldn't help but squeeze down on his fingers.    
            "Can't help it.  You can fuck me slow," he offered, "would you please just-"    
Derek spread his fingers, cutting him off neatly.    
Stiles moaned quietly, back arching again.    
            "Yes," he hissed out.    
Derek twisted his fingers before spreading them again.  Out and in he added more lube before starting a rhythm.    
Stiles writhed and pushed back against him as much as he could, which admittedly wasn't much.    
Derek's hand was still on his thigh, nails digging in but thankfully blunt.    
For a short moment he was ridiculously glad that it was Derek who had to stay in control and not him.  
But then Derek's fingers were curling and Stiles forgot to care.    
It felt like Derek was purposely trying to test his patience and Stiles had to continually bite his lips to stop words from spilling out.    
That wasn't Derek's torturing smirk.  Instead he just looked intent on what he was doing, stretching Stiles out and getting him slick.    
He bit back another groan.  
The flat of Derek's tongue sliding up his cock almost had him splitting out of his skin.    
            "Oh my _god_ Derek," Stiles panted, holding to the pillow for dear life, muscles in his back sparking and beginning to burn in protest.    
He drew back, squeezing Stiles' thigh quickly before releasing it.    
            "Sit up," he exhaled, pulling himself up too.    
            "What," Stiles managed, gaping.    
            "Sit up," Derek repeated simply before dropping his attention to his lap.

It was several moments too long before Stiles managed to convince his body to move.    
Every nerve was drawn tight and hot, his brain was screaming for more, and his body felt horrifyingly bereft.   
            "Come on," Derek coaxed, lips curled just barely in amusement.    
            "Shut up," Stiles scowled, inching closer to him on his knees.    
Derek's hands skimmed down his back, drawing him closer and slipping down to lift him.  
            "Oh okay," Stiles said as Derek rearranged him.  "Yeah this is good."    
Derek hummed his agreement, leaving Stiles on his knees, hovering over him.    
            "You got me?" Stiles questioned, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck.  
            "I got you."    
He slipped down so slowly, breath pushing out as Derek's cock pressed against him.  Pausing a moment he wasn't even sure if he was trying to slow down or couldn't move at all.  A sound he couldn't identify was wrung out as the head of Derek's cock slipped inside.    
Derek's mouth slid over his throat, a shiver working through him.    
Stiles' brain shut down for a second and he nearly sagged.    
            "Fuck," he gasped, "t-tease."    
Derek licked the same spot.    
Stiles dropped, wince twisting at Derek's groan.  He pushed back up and lowered slowly, still not seated in Derek's lap.  Stiles inhaled slowly too, focusing on relaxing.    
Derek squeezed his hips, nails pricking.    
Stiles' head dropped back as he fought to breathe and Derek took advantage of full access to his neck, licking and nipping painlessly.    
It took three more tries to finally get Derek all the way in and Stiles paused for breath, cheek pressing to Derek's shoulder.  
            "Your dick is really big, did you know," he muttered, fingertips inching into Derek's damp sweat hair.    
Derek laughed, shaking around him, Stiles groaned.    
            "It's the position," he offered, fingers pulling at the muscles in Stiles' back.  
            "Then why are we in this position," Stiles huffed before he could think better of it.    
            "So I don't break the bed."    
Stiles groaned again, dropping his eyes to where his knees bracketed Derek's hips.    
Derek's attention returned to his neck and Stiles forced himself back up.    
            "You can't leave any marks," he reminded him, probably too breathless to actually hold any weight.    
Derek's eyebrows inched together but he nodded anyways.    
            "Putting the fangs away," he said softly.  
Stiles dropped down again,   
            "Just not where my dad can see," he whispered, sliding their mouths together. 

Derek lifted them both, drawing a breathy moan from Stiles.  
He laid him back on the mattress before pressing forward and kissing his chest.    
            " _Fuck_ ," escaped Stiles' lips.    
Stiles looped his arms under Derek's, hands pulling at his shoulders.    
Teeth scraped down Stiles' ribs, hips rolling back to his.    
He couldn't stay silent if he tried.  Words were pouring out and he didn't care, limbs tangling with Derek's and trying to just bring him closer.    
He cried out as Derek bit him hard, surprised he wasn't bleeding.    
            "I can't," Derek growled out, gripping him even tighter, " _Stiles_ -" he cut off, jaw clenching and Stiles tried not to move other than to breathe.    
The problem was he'd managed to forget about Derek's knot.    
            "Oh god," he managed shallowly, writhing as Derek's tongue worked over a nipple.    
            "Stiles," Derek growled again and it sounded much more like a plea.    
His knot tugged out, Stiles' teeth grinding together as Derek forced it right back in.    
            "God-f-fuck-" Stiles gasped out because it hurt just as much as it didn't.  His body could forget on the very next inhale but somewhere in his brain he knew the pain was still lacing through him.    
Stiles clawed at Derek's back, absolutely no sense of whether or not he was hurting him.  Maybe Derek didn't notice anyway.    
The way he was splayed over Stiles, still fucking into him, Stiles wasn't sure.  
Each thrust back in Stiles' body clenched reflexively and he couldn't his help pained little moans on every tug.    
It finally caught and held he wrapped his legs around Derek as tight as he could, face twisting as he forced himself to keep breathing.    
When Derek bit him, he screamed.    
His vision wavered as Derek pulled up just enough to look down at him, lips blood red.    
Then he tilted his head back and bared his neck.    
It was so unexpected, so _beautiful_ , that Stiles was frozen.    
For two perfect moments neither of them moved and then with strength he hadn't known he had Stiles pulled himself up and bit back.

They lay in a sticky heap for much longer than was decent, not that Stiles was conscious for all of it, before finally stumbling to the bathroom and cleaning up with a washcloth.  Stiles tossed it into the sink behind him, Derek pressing close and kissing him.  
They kissed lazily, Stiles' fingertips straying to Derek's neck repeatedly.   
Finally he turned around and risked a glance in the mirror.   
            "Wow," Stiles sighed, fingers drifting over the raised ridge of skin.  It was pulled tight, flushed pink.  It was fascinating.    
            "Mm," Derek hummed, dropping a kiss to his shoulder before peering into the mirror too.  A fingertip drifted over his neck, blemish free.  
            "Not fair," Stiles pouted.    
            "I can still see it," Derek told him.  "Other wolves will be able to too."  
            "Yeah?"    
            "Yeah."  He blinked at him, mouth turning for just a second before his attention returned to his neck.    
            "What?"  
            "Hm?"  
            "What is it?"    
            "It's more traditional to mark the neck," Derek explained after a moment.    
            "Oh."    
Stiles eyed the bite mark just at the top of his chest more severely.  His fingers stroked over it protectively.    
            "I think it's perfect," he said.  "Everyone who needs to know will know anyways."    
            "Will they," Derek kissed the side of his neck then, hair tickling Stiles' jaw.  
            "Yeah," Stiles breathed.    
He leaned back against Derek a bit more, still stroking over his mark.  
            "I love it," he told Derek seriously.  "I really do."    
Derek's arms snaked around his waist, hugging him tight.    
            "I love yours too."    
            "Good," he paused deliberately, "there's no getting rid of me now."    
Derek kissed him again.  
            "Never."    
            "Is it wrong to be really turned on right now?"    
A grin broke over Derek's mouth.  
            "It's a natural reaction, yeah."    
Stiles turned back into the bedroom, tugging Derek with him.

He winced as he hit the bed, immediately trying to find a more comfortable position and ending up on his side.    
            "Huh," he exhaled, frowning at his half hard dick.    
Derek sat cautiously, keeping a bit of space between them.    
            "I could," he offered hesitantly, "I _should_ -"  
            "No."    
            "I didn't mean to," Derek tried then, "I couldn't…control myself."    
Stiles could feel his frustration perfectly.    
            "Stop," Stiles told him, shifting closer.  "So I'm a little sore I'll be fine."    
Derek curled close to him.  
            "Stiles let me do this.  Please."    
            "I'm _fine_ Der-"  
            "Please."    
Stiles frowned at him, Derek's guilt somehow morphing into his own at not just letting him do it.  
            "You said with your permission," Derek said softly, warm hands creeping over Stiles' hips.  "It's nothing.  I'll show you."    
Stiles hesitated and Derek pouted at him.  He _pouted_.    
            "Alright, alright, but don't get used to it," he grumbled.     
He rolled onto his stomach carefully, propping up the unbitten half of his chest with a pillow.    
Derek spread his thighs gently before rubbing the backs.  
            "Put your hands on mine."    
            "Um.  Okay."    
Stiles stretched back awkwardly, managing to layer his hands over Derek's.    
            "Just breathe."    
He felt the heat first, just like before.  But then there was a pinching sensation and the pain _moved_ , flaring brighter before slipping away.  It was there and gone in a matter of heartbeats, melting like the sun.             
            "Nothing," Derek repeated, "I told you." 

He flipped Stiles over before he could protest, slipping over him and kissing him.    
            "Feel so good," he breathed between kisses, "so…warm…and… _mine_."    
Stiles sighed, gripping Derek's neck.  
            "I know," he returned, wishing he could wiggle closer.    
            "I mean it's all," Derek turned to the side to speak, one hand covering Stiles' mark hotly, "like retracing lines that were already there but still it's so- _good_.  Like coming home."    
            " _There's no place like home, Dorothy_ ," Stiles grinned.  
Derek pinched his hip with his free hand.  
            "Shut up."    
            "Make me."    
Derek groaned before laughing quietly.    
            "You really shouldn't make it so easy for me," Stiles murmured, fingers pushing through Derek's hair.  "Maybe one day you'll be better."    
            "I guess I can't ask you to change," Derek mused, a knee slipping between Stiles'.    
            "No you can't," Stiles agreed, very carefully staying still.    
Derek kissed him again, teeth catching at Stiles' lip and pulling.    
Stiles moaned as his skin flushed warm.  It was a rapid change in direction but he didn't mind.    
            "Holy shit," he said as his brain ground to a halt.  
Derek pushed himself up on one hand, eyebrows arched as he looked down at him.             
            "What?"    
            "I just realized you're the only guy I'm ever going to sleep with.  _Ever_."  
Derek smirked.  
            "Sorry you missed your chance at the hot teen orgy."    
            "Oh my god you had an invitation and didn't tell me?" Stiles accused, pure mock outrage and too fast tongue.    
Derek rolled his eyes but Stiles would swear it was fond.  
            "You're the only guy I'm ever going to sleep with too remember?"    
He hadn't but he didn't admit it out loud.    
            "We are so lame," Stiles sighed.    
            "Lame?" Derek echoed.  "You weren't complaining when you fainted."    
            "Maybe I faint at the sight of blood," Stiles suggested.    
            "That must be a very troubling condition."    
Derek was unconcerned, kissing his jaw lightly. 

…

            "Okay yes the sex is good," Stiles admitted, "we should have more."    
Derek laughed, shaking against him.    
            "Subtle."    
            "You're already lying on top of me naked.  Time for subtlety?  I think not."    
            "Sex is going to be a lot better now that we're bonded," Derek said.  "And it's not like we don't have options."    
Stiles' eyebrows moved up.  
            "Options?"    
            "Well it's not like I'm an alpha.  God willing I never will be."  His fingers trailed down Stiles' ribs slowly, coming to a rest at his hip.  "So I'm not totally opposed to submitting to you."    
Stiles' jaw worked soundlessly.    
That sounded…interesting.    
            "You're a guy," Derek murmured hesitantly, "I'm a guy…options."    
            " _Oh_."    
            "Mm."    
            "You'd be willing to…?"    
Derek rested on his elbows, mouth bowed slightly.  
            "Why not?"    
            "Well that's…I just never thought…huh."    
Derek laughed again, quickly.  
            "I take it you're not opposed to the idea?"    
            "Wh-no.  _No_.  Why would I be?"  He huffed out a breath.  "Nope."    
            "Okay," Derek said agreeably, rolling them.    
            "That was easy," Stiles teased lowly.    
            "You haven't done anything yet," Derek pointed out.

Derek eased him down for a kiss, hands tracing back to Stiles' hips once their mouths were connected.    
            "A-Are you sure about this?"    
            "What?  Worried you're going to hurt me?"    
            "Kind of."    
_Or just being really, really bad at sex.  Either or._  
            "Your heart's pounding so hard."    
Stiles nearly laughed, lips even twisting with it.  
            "Yeah, I know."    
            "Just breathe."    
Stiles did laugh then, just once.  
            "Yeah thanks for that."    
They kissed again, tongues twisting together lazily for several minutes.    
            "Okay, okay," Stiles managed when his nerves were down to a dull roar, "where's the lube?"    
            "Floor probably."    
            "Right."    
Stiles scrambled for it, nearly falling off the bed in the process.    
Still when his fingers closed around the tube he snapped back up, grin faltering as he took in Derek again.    
He was leaning on one elbow, hips canted and legs spread just so, cock thick and flushed against his stomach.    
            "Holy crap," he managed, throat dry.    
His cheeks were pink and Stiles could feel his tinge of embarrassment but he could also feel his want.  
It was dizzying.    
He closed his eyes for a moment and just let it roll through him.  Then he crawled over Derek and kissed him hard.    
            "I forgot what it was like to feel you," he muttered quickly.  "GodI can _feel_ you."    
Derek smiled, fingers tracing his jaw.  
            "I know.  It's stronger for me."    
            "Everything I'm feeling?"    
            "Intricately."    
He laughed shallowly.  
            "Damn." 

            "Does it scare you?" Derek broke away to ask.    
            "Mm-talk later, sex now."    
Derek slid to his back, one leg slipping around Stiles' hip before tangling with his.    
Stiles groaned and couldn't help rutting against him.    
            "Are you sure, like are you really really sure," Stiles more or less panted into his mouth.    
            "You'll know if you have to stop,"  
            "But I have no idea what I'm doing."    
            "Yeah you do.  You're just nervous."    
            "God I can't believe you're reassuring me," Stiles half laughed, working not to shake.    
            "We don't have to do it right now," Derek said hesitantly.  "We don't have to do _anything_ right now.  But if we do…it'll be fine."    
            "You don't know that I could scar you for life."    
Derek grinned quickly.    
            "You are so, so," he tugged Stiles down for a kiss, "ridiculous."    
            "Well ask anyone to fuck a werewolf they're gonna be nervous.  Batman would totally be-"  
Derek kissed him harder, cutting him off.  
            "You've prepped yourself remember?  It's even easier on me.  Better angle right?"  
            "Right.  Yeah.  Okay."    
            "So what do you want me to do?"    
            "Um.  Spread your legs I guess?"    
Derek smiled but he didn't say anything, spreading his legs before planting his feet.   
Stiles wriggled back through his knees, popping the cap on the lube.    
Derek eased his balls out of the way, other hand stroking his cock slowly.    
Mind twisting and racing along, Stiles chewed on his lips as a stall. 

_Warm the lube.  Go slow.  Feel_ _your way_.   
It made him feel better to do something with his hands and Stiles steadied himself with a hand to the back of Derek's thigh as the other twisted and rubbed.    
            "Okay," Stiles exhaled, "I'm going to…start…now."    
He was blushing furiously and it took too long to meet Derek's eyes.    
            "Okay," Derek agreed quietly.    
Stiles pressed just the tip of his finger to Derek's hole, freezing as muscles in Derek's thighs jumped.    
            "I'm fine," Derek said, only he definitely didn't sound fine.    
            "You don't sound fine."  _He_ sounded petulant but he didn't care.  This was kind of a big deal.    
            "Stiles just-just _do something_."    
Stiles twisted his finger slowly, barely increasing the pressure.    
Derek's thighs shook.    
            "Oh my god-are you okay?"    
            "Mmm," Derek let out, hips shifting.    
            "Kind of need like actual words-fuck Derek."    
            "Fine.  You're fine.  Keep going."    
He was sweating.  Badly.  Stiles wiped his brow with the back of his free hand before pressing his finger harder against Derek.    
Derek inhaled sharply and Stiles' finger slipped right in.    
He gaped for a moment, wincing as Derek clenched around the intrusion.    
            "Still okay?"    
            "Yes.  Don't ask if I'm sure."    
Stiles' jaw clicked shut.    
            "Just use more lube and trust yourself."    
            "You're a very toppy bottom," Stiles informed him, obeying anyways.    
Unsurprisingly Derek didn't respond, spreading his legs further instead.    
Stiles' finger slid in easier the next press and he blinked stupidly.    
            "That feels really…hot…damn…"    
Derek squeezed around him and Stiles whined. 

Sparks started shooting off in his brain and he was suddenly desperate to get Derek open, to get inside.  He rubbed outside with his thumb as he worked his finger in and out.    
            "More," Derek panted, hips rocking when Stiles hooked his finger.    
Stiles twisted a second finger inside, still massaging.  He thought- _knew_ that his desperation was bleeding right into Derek.    
Maybe he should feel guilty about that.    
Maybe he would later.    
He spread his fingers just barely, breath catching when the simple motion made Derek fist both hands in the sheet under him.    
Stiles barely held in a groan.  In fact he didn't really hold it in at all.    
He twisted his fingers before spreading them again.    
He didn't last much longer before slipping his fingers free, unable to move as Derek's hole gripped at nothing and opened again.  Both hands were slick and he dropped the lube before managing to squeeze more out, wrapping a hand around himself and hissing at the shock of cold.   
            "Tell me if it's too much."    
His brain felt firmly disconnected from his mouth but at least his ears caught the words.  
One hand went to Derek's hip, the other to the mattress, and Stiles pressed forward.    
It was too much to take in and Stiles had to keep stopping.  He wasn't even sure if he was breathing.  
Derek was so hot and almost unbearably tight.    
Stiles sort of thought he was talking but he hadn't the faintest idea what he was saying.    
But Derek was yanking him closer, claws digging into his ribs, and Stiles thought it should hurt more than it did.    
He felt oddly disconnected from his body, barely thinking enough to realize it.    
            " _Stiles!_ "  From Derek's tone it was clear it wasn't the first time he'd said it.  He gave Stiles' ribs another squeeze.  
Stiles realized how quiet the room was now that he'd shut up.    
            "I need you," Derek began unevenly, "to move."    
            "Gonna come," Stiles blurted. 

Derek's head fell back against the pillow.  
            "Do it then," he growled, "just do _something_."    
Stiles moved slowly, as if he could calm down by sheer force of will.  He pressed in again just as slowly, knuckles creaking they were clenched so tight.    
Derek writhed underneath him; whine so long it was nearly a howl.    
Stiles pulled back and rolled his hips again.    
His mouth opened on a gasp but it wasn't what he was expecting.  Rather than a rubber band snapping the pleasure welled in him like a dam overflowing.    
Derek was stroking himself desperately and Stiles just melted against him, legs sprawling out behind.    
Derek's entire body curled as he came, moaning long and low.    
            "Told you," he panted, "more intense."  He sagged into the mattress again.  
Stiles hummed in response, limbs too loose to move.    
He tried to tell Derek about a nap which seemed like a really great idea at the moment but the words couldn't push past his lips.

Stiles would be perfectly content to spend about the next two months in bed with Derek, for a lot of reasons, but mainly because he'd only lasted about sixty seconds and that time needed to be improved.    
He wasn't as mortified as he thought he'd be, asserting that it hadn't been awful for their first time.  Derek had agreed, kissing his temple, and they'd made their way back to the bathroom.    

 …

Getting dressed was nearly impossible.    
Derek was being clingy.    
            "Are you sure you have to go?" he questioned yet again.  
Stiles nearly groaned.  
            "You know I do.  I just got out of prison remember?"    
            "Can I sneak in your window tonight?"    
            "If you lend me a pair of boxers I'll consider it."    
Derek rumbled, pressing closer to his back.  
            "What's mine is yours," he offered magnanimously.    
            "You're kind of adorable like this," Stiles told him as Derek hopped out of bed and crossed to the dresser.    
Stiles half expected him to have a wagging tail.          
            "Don't get used to it I'm high on endorphins," Derek told him seriously, returning with a pair of plaid boxers.  It was softened with a smile as their fingers brushed and Stiles' lips curled in response.    
            "I'd be higher on endorphins if I didn't have to go."    
Derek sobered for a moment.  
            "The nap killed us."    
            "Yes.  But it was a good nap."  
            "I'll see you in a few hours," Derek said, dropping a placating kiss to the top of his head.    
Stiles sighed, mostly to himself, before standing and wiggling into Derek's boxers.  He pulled on a sock next, crossing to his jeans.    
Derek tossed him his shirt before pulling his own jeans on, not bothering to fasten them.   
Stiles' eyes traced the v of exposed flesh for several moments too long.  By the time he'd managed his jeans Derek was handing him his other sock, both shoes hanging in his other hand.    
            "What would I do without you?" he questioned lightly.   
            "Lead a painfully normal life I suppose."    
Stiles let his nose wrinkle.  
            "Who wants that?"

Stiles drove back carefully, one hand on the wheel.  Bursting through the door sweating would only confirm his guilt.  He needed to look relaxed.  He needed to _be_ relaxed.  After all he and Derek had just had a Lord of the Rings marathon and fallen asleep.  No sex.  None at all.  The DVD's were even in the passenger seat, his alibi.  Maybe there had been some making out…maybe.  He shook his head ruefully.  He really had to get better at lying to his father.  
The door had barely snapped shut behind him, he hadn't even opened his mouth, when his father said,  
            "I don't want to know," not even looking up from the Grisham novel he was reading.    
            "Is this reverse psychology," Stiles questioned, patting Gus on the head as he approached, "is a parenting book tucked inside that one?"    
            "No," his father said simply, still not looking up.    
Stiles waited several beats to see if his father was going to say anything else.  
He didn't.  
            "Well okay then."  
His father sighed.  
            "It's the first day you've been unsupervised for hours Son.  Give me some credit here please."    
He glanced up in time to see Stiles' blush and Stiles knew he was sunk.    
            "We _could_ have held off," he muttered to himself, "we just didn't _want_ to."    
There was no response as his father's glasses were settled back on his nose and he was reading silently again.     
Stiles shrugged to himself and headed for the stairs.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skimmed but who are we kidding this is unedited.  
> Sorry for that.
> 
> Keeping it short and sweet so I can go pass out  
> hope it was okay  
> thank you so much for reading!


	29. Everything that I Never Thought Could Happen

Derek lounged in bed for as long as he could before forcing himself out and dressing, or more accurately pulling on fresh jeans and a shirt.    
Someone would be back soon enough and while they'd all seen enough of each other already he was sure it wouldn't be appreciated.    
He could still pick Stiles out of the air but the smell concentrated in the sheets was approaching euphoric and he felt intoxicated.    
His _mate._     
His phone started ringing from his jeans, still on the floor.  
Inhaling deeply again Derek forced himself up with a quiet groan.  Glancing to the screen he couldn't help a loose smile before answering the call.  
            "Hey Mom," he offered, flopping back to the bed with a huff of an exhale.    
            "My darling boy," she answered, "how are you?"    
            "Perfect."  He dragged a pillow to his chest with his free arm.  "You?  Everyone?"  
            "We're good," he heard the rhythmic click of a spoon against a bowl, "we miss you all."    
            "What are you making?" he questioned, tongue curling absently.    
            "Peanut butter cookies."    
He groaned enthusiastically.    
            "Moooooom," he whined.    
She laughed warmly.  
            "Stop pouting and talk to your father."    
There was a brief struggle and a smack, his mother growling and his father laughing as he finally took the phone.  
            "Hey Derek.  Delicious as always love."    
Derek scowled.  
            "I hope you get salmonella," his mother returned.  
            "And you'll be right here to nurse me back to health if I do," his father said, receiving another smack.    
            "I hope you get salmonella too," Derek tossed in, smoothing the pillow he'd put in a death grip.  
His father only chuckled.    
            "Comforting as it is to feel your love, you both know I can't catch salmonella."    
            "Pity," Derek returned easily.    
            "So how's California?"    
Derek smiled against his will.  
            "It's good," he said.  "Really good."    
            "You sound content."    
            "I am," Derek hazarded after another moment.    
            "Bringing anyone home for Christmas?"    
Derek was overwhelmed for several moments, thinking of Christmas with his family _and_ Stiles.    
            "Yeah," he finally managed, "yeah I think so." 

They stayed on the phone for almost an hour before his father had to go, his mother elbow deep in enough cookies for half the pack, so Derek said his goodbyes and rolled over again.    
As one of the trucks rolled down the drive Derek managed to shove his discarded clothes beneath the bed before making his way downstairs.  
Curtis took one sniff before smiling.  
            "Congrats bro," he offered, clapping his shoulder.    
Derek ducked his chin, face heating.  
            "Thanks."    
            "I've never seen you like this," Curtis added.  "Really, congratulations.  He's the one for you."    
He tugged him into a hug, ruffling his hair quickly.    
Derek growled, slapping him on the ribs playfully before squirming from his hold.    
            "If I can do it so can you," Derek tossed back, nearly running into Devon.    
            "Whoa," Devon let out, waving a hand under his nose.  "Way to seal the deal Derek."    
            "I'm sorry?" Derek let out, brain refusing to cooperate.    
            "Just didn't expect you to lift your tail and give it up, that's all," he muttered, shrugging out of his jacket and passing Derek to toss it over the banister.    
For several seconds Derek still couldn't think, ears buzzing faintly.  
            "What did you just say to me?" he finally managed, teeth tangling in his lips as they elongated.    
Devon's reply was forcibly cut off by Derek shoving him into the nearest wall, keeping him pinned easily.    
            "Hey if that's what you're into," Devon offered, laughing weakly, "but I'm never rolling over for anyone."    
            "Whoa, whoa," Landon cut in, taking one of Derek's arms.  
Henry took the other and they pulled him off.  
            "Easy Derek," Henry ordered quietly.  "Be calm."    
Derek snarled shortly in response.    
Landon shoved Devon back into the wall lightly.  
            "You don't talk about someone's mate you shit, especially when they've just finished the bond.  What is wrong with you?"    
He pushed Devon again, Devon smacking at his hand and snapping his teeth.  
            "Just because you've never even come close to sharing that bond with someone," Landon barked out, "doesn't mean you should presume to know what it means."    
Devon laughed, looking to Henry.  
            "At least Henry knows what I mean, right man?"    
Henry didn't answer, a scowl twisting his face briefly.  
            "Maybe you should go run the perimeter," he offered stiffly.    
            "We'll go together," Landon said, more or less yanking him towards the back door. 

Derek forced himself to calm down in increments.  He was surprised that his was not the only racing heart in the room.    
            "Are you alright?" Henry's were words clipped short.  He made his way into the kitchen before Derek had answered and Derek followed.    
            "I'm fine.  He just doesn't understand.  Like Landon said."    
            "Beer?" Henry asked then, pulling open the fridge.    
            "Sure."    
He studied Henry for a long moment.  
Outward he was cool as ice, face completely composed, eyes sharp as always.  But his heart was still beating too fast.  And he had to know Derek knew.  Even if he didn't show it.    
            "Henry," he began as a cool bottle was pressed into his hand, "did you meet someone?"    
Henry yanked the cap off with his teeth and stuck it in his pocket.  His grimace was there and gone before he took a long swig.  He lowered the bottle again and swallowed.    
It took Derek another moment to realize he wasn't getting an answer.  
            "Are _you_ alright?"    
Henry didn't answer that either.  
He paced a few steps before turning back.  
            "If he keeps up the attitude we'll have a talk."    
Derek was well aware that _talk_ did not mean talk.  He took a sip rather than arguing.    
            "We're a tight unit here," Henry continued, "we don't have any room for dissonance."    
            "I agree."  He listened as Henry's heart finally found its usual rhythm, though it didn't make him feel any better.  "We are a tight unit here.  So if something is wrong," he paused as Henry turned away, "you can lean on us."  
Henry nodded once, mouth bowed, but he still didn't say a word.    
Derek let him walk away.

Derek finished his beer and then drifted upstairs to try and kill more time.    
It didn't really work.  
Finally he sighed in defeat and tugged his shoes on before jogging back down the stairs.    
Grace was sitting in the living room and tossed him a halfhearted wave as he left.    
He was rather glad not to see anyone else.    
Running was good for two reasons: no car to hide and plenty of endorphins to focus on.    
By the time he got to the Stilinski house he was happy again, slipping through Stiles' window easily.  
Stiles was in bed, laptop open next to him.  
            "Hey," he said, grinning.    
Derek didn't even bother taking off his shoes before easing himself over Stiles' computer and laying his body over his mate like a blanket.    
He tucked his face right into Stiles' throat and inhaled deeply, humming in pleasure.  
            "Hi," he let out simply.    
            "I wasn't expecting you so soon."    
Rather than admit that he really shouldn't be here right now, Derek started mouthing at his neck lazily.    
Stiles' hand came to rest at the base of his skull, head sliding so Derek had more access.    
            "I know we're supposed to be playing it careful," he said finally, "I just want to be with you and…" he drifted.  There didn't seem to be a non corny way to finish that sentence.  "Well that's pretty much it," he finished, tracing a vein with the tip of his tongue.    
            "Why do I feel like this is heading towards sex again?" Stiles laughed.    
Derek couldn't help the flash of irritation that shot through him.  
Stiles tensed beneath him.  
            "What?  Are you alright?"    
            "No I'm fine.  Everything's fine."    
  
Stiles pushed him up and followed only to cross his arms over his chest.  
            "I'm sorry did you miss the part where we're mated now and we're sharing this super awesome werewolf bond that actually means I can feel your feelings?"    
Derek sighed.  
            "No, that's pretty clear in my memory."    
Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.  
            "Okay good, so spill."  
            "It's _nothing_ ," Derek repeated.  "Devon just…doesn't understand."  
            "Doesn't understand what exactly?"    
            "It's none of his business."    
It was a weak dodge and Stiles knew it too.  
He uncrossed his arms just to huff and cross them again, eyes narrowed.    
            "He may have made some allusions to me rolling over and lifting my tail," Derek finally admitted.    
            "He what," Stiles demanded.    
Derek resisted the urge to laugh.  
            "I told you he doesn't understand.  Yeah it pissed me off but…if he doesn't understand then he doesn't understand."    
            "What so because you're a werewolf-"  
            "No-"  
            "Because you're bigger than me-"  
            "No-"  
            "What, because you're _stronger_?  And how did he even know anyways?"    
He did smile then, just a little.    
            "Stiles I reek of you," he said bluntly.    
            "Well that's fucking archaic anyways," Stiles nearly snarled the words, his cheeks flushed dark, "I don't have to be the girl in this relationship 24/7."    
Derek felt his eyebrows move up in amusement against his will.  
            "Stiles you're not-"  
            "Which is not to say that women should take the more submissive role in their relationship.  I don't believe that at all.  But I'm just- You know what I'm saying, right?"

Derek uncrossed his arms and took Stiles' hands in his own, massaging gently.  
            "Yes I do.  Now will you listen for a second?"  
            "Fine," Stiles sniffed.    
            "Our relationship is our relationship.  I don't make decisions for you.  You don't make decisions for me.  There's not some systematic male/female dynamic working here."    
            "Except when I'm hurt," Stiles said, eyebrows raised.    
Derek bit the inside of his cheek.  
            "We talked about that.  And came to an agreement.  Remember?"    
            "But you still want us to move to Maine."    
Derek exhaled slowly.    
            "Yes I want that.  But as I've already said it's something for us to figure out together.  Remember?"    
            "I suppose you have a point," Stiles allowed, smiling slowly.    
            "While we're discussing things," Derek changed the subject abruptly.  "My father asked if you'd come to Maine for Christmas.  Schedule allowing obviously."    
He heard the kick of Stiles' heart and tried not to get anxious.    
            "Um.  Well I'd have to ask my dad.  But…yeah.  I mean, that could be really cool."    
            "It's just an option," Derek tried to insist, but already his chest was expanding with the happiness bubbling up.  Just the thought of it made it hard to breathe.  "I'd like it," he added, "very much."    
            "I mean we've already mated and everything.  So…meeting the family is no big deal.  Right?" he asked, voice cracking.  
Derek pulled him closer, mouth curled.  
            "They already love you Stiles.  They wouldn't have done all this otherwise."    
            "Right yeah.  Of course."    
            "You can meet the rest of the pack too."    
Stiles squeaked.    
            "You were a wreck before meeting my dad.  _And_ Scott.  So don't be a dick."    
            "Stiles you have nothing to worry about.  You're adorable and I love you.  It will only be a matter of time before they love you more than me anyways."    
Stiles scowled for a second.  
            "I'm not a chipmunk, don't call me adorable."    
Derek had to laugh, kissing him quickly.  
            "Whatever you say."

…

            "Oh Jesus," Stiles panted out, falling into a tree for support, "I forgot how much I hate this."    
            "You've done this before?" Scott wheezed, hauling his inhaler out and uncapping it with shaky hands.    
Derek jogged back to them, offering Stiles the water bottle.  
Stiles shot him a glare that was halfhearted at best.    
Scott shoved his inhaler back in his pocket and pointed at Derek.  
            "You…are…evil."    
            "I really don't care what you think," Derek returned with a patronizing smile, "you're just here so the Sheriff knows we're not having sex."  
Scott groaned, loudly.  He even retched twice.    
Stiles spit a thin stream of water at Derek before taking another drink.  
            "Stop being a douche," he panted.    
            "You two are a little pathetic."  
            "Hey," Scott and Stiles protested in sync.    
            "You're a werewolf you don't get to say that," Scott wheezed at him.  
Stiles spit another stream of water.    
            "I can't believe I mated with you," Stiles added.    
            "Yeah seriously," Scott shoved hair out of his face, "you have horrible taste in men bro."    
            "Agreed."  Stiles tossed the water bottle back at Derek's head before offering his fist for Scott to bump.  
            "We have another mile before the break," Derek reminded them.    
            "Oh god.  Shut up.  Just shut up."    
            "I'm not the one who wants you on first line," Derek tossed over his shoulder as he started jogging again.    
            "I changed my mind," Scott told him, "I don't want first line.  It's not worth it."    
            "No, no, come on.  You're not leaving me alone with him."    
            "I think he's running us…to death."    
            "Then first line must be heaven," Stiles grunted, taking a fistful of Scott's shirt and yanking him along. 

They didn't quite make the loop Derek had set for them.  
Stiles limped along beside him as they walked the rest.  
Scott was passed out on his back.    
            "Are we almost to the car?"    
            "Almost," Derek sighed, hefting Scott a few inches higher.    
            "Thank _god_.  We are never doing this again.  I'm sorry we just have to break up Derek."    
            "You're not as funny as you think you are," Derek returned easily.    
            "I can't make first line.  I'm not built for it.  Do you see how freaking svelte I am?"    
            "I've noticed."    
            "Exactly," Stiles cried out, smacking his arm.  "I can't do it.  I give up.  Challenge denied."    
            "Hm," Derek let out, lips quirking.    
            "What?"  
            "I don't believe you for a second."    
            "You totally should I am 110% serious right now."    
            "Mmhm."    
            "That's not his serious voice," Scott felt the need to add.    
            "I'm aware.  Thank you Scott."    
            "You're supposed to be asleep you traitor!" Stiles leaned up to smack the back of his head.  
Scott groaned pathetically in response.    
Derek pushed Stiles away gently, feeling weirdly protective of Scott.  
            "And you!" Stiles continued, swaying back and smacking Derek again, "You don't have to be such a Nazi slave driver overlord about it!"    
            "Oh I'm sorry," Derek laughed, "is the gentle approach going to work with you?  How do you feel about going for a little run today Sweetie?  We can stop as soon as you're tired," he cooed.    
            "He has a point," Scott muttered.    
            "Oh shut up, I hate you both."  
Derek had the feeling Scott was smiling too.  
            "That's not your serious voice either," Scott sang.   
   
Rather than answering Stiles hurried the last few feet to the Camaro and plastered himself over the hood.    
            "I missed you," he sighed.  
            "I'm gonna set you down, okay?"  
            "Kay," Scott sighed, wincing as Derek eased him to the ground.   
Derek squeezed his shoulders for just a moment, easing away some of the pain.  
            "Hey!" Stiles cried, shoving off the hood.  "Don't think I didn't see that!  Do me!"    
            "Oh now you want me to?" Derek questioned, fishing his keys out and unlocking the car.  
            "I do _not_ want to know," Scott mumbled, falling into the backseat.    
            "You can't do Scott and not me that's not fair!  Derek…" he whined.  
            "You told me you wanted to get through the pain on your own.  Scott told me no such thing."  
            "He doesn't even know you can heal people!"  
            "Well now he does.  Scott you have a problem with me healing you?"  
            "Nope."    
            "Great.  I only took a little anyways."    
Stiles pouted.    
            "Plus Scott's never worked out with me before."    
Stiles made an undignified noise in the back of his throat.    
            "Doesn't that mean I should get more healing than him?"    
            "You said you didn't want it," Derek reminded him gently.    
            "Without permission," Stiles insisted.  "I'm giving you permission."    
            "You're impossible."  
Still Derek bent to kiss his brow, hands sliding down his arms in slow, hot streaks.    
            "Thanks," Stiles whispered, kissing his cheek quickly.    
            "I'm pretty sure this is cheating on some level," Derek said.  
Stiles ignored him, tucking Scott's legs into the car and closing the door.    
            "Come on, I'm famished."      

They headed back to Derek's, Scott taking the pack in with a bemused expression as they all adopted him immediately.  
            "He looks like a puppy!" Grace cooed, visibly restraining herself from pinching his cheeks.    
Stiles was laughing uncontrollably at that for nearly a minute.    
When he saw what he and Scott were eating for dinner his humor vanished.  
            "What is this," he questioned, "what is all that green stuff?  And what is that purple stuff?  I don't even feed this to my dad Derek."    
            "Relax there's chicken for you to put in.  And some dressing."    
            " _Salad_ ," Stiles was offended.  "You're feeding me salad?  Is that a _blueberry_?"    
            "Nutrients.  Antioxidants.  Protein."    
            "Why?"  
            "I did research."  
            "Derek, please."    
            "It smells good," Scott offered helpfully.    
Stiles hissed at him.  
Derek couldn't help but smile.   
            "And what exactly are you all eating?" Stiles demanded.    
            "We're not trying to make first line," Derek told him.    
The truck was pulling up.  Landon and Eden were back with the pizzas.  
            "I don't care," Stiles snarled adorably, his finger stabbing into Derek's chest.  "What are you all eating?"    
            "There was a special," Derek stalled.  "Your blueberries were expensive."    
            "Special on what?"  
            "They're organic."    
            "Special on what?" Stiles repeated, gritting the words out.    
            "Pizza's here!" Eden yelled, shoving the door open. 

Stiles wasn't speaking to him.  He was purposely speaking to everyone _but_ him.    
The only contact he got from Stiles during dinner was blueberries flung at his nose, with surprising accuracy.    
            "And you say you can't make first line," Derek teased, snatching a berry from the air and popping it into his mouth.    
Stiles turned his nose up before deliberately looking down at his salad.    
From the looks of it his chicken was already gone.  Derek wondered if he had any blueberries left as Stiles abandoned his fork and shoved a piece of cabbage into his mouth.  Apparently not.  
            "This salad's really good," Scott enthused, "it tastes so fresh!"    
            "Awww Puppy likes salad," Grace cooed, reaching over to ruffle his hair.    
Scott flushed but kept smiling, oblivious to the glare Stiles was shooting at him.    
Derek shook his head and grabbed another slice of pizza, loaded heavy with toppings.    
A piece of lettuce fluttered to the tabletop, not heavy enough to make it across to Derek.    
He spiked a brow at Stiles and took a huge bite, chewing around a smile.    
            "I hate you," Stiles declared, crossing his arms.    
            "Do you know how many miles you'd have to run just to burn off this slice of pizza?" Derek asked him.    
            "I have a fast metabolism."  
            "You didn't earlier."    
Stiles gasped, offended.    
            "You could just work out with me more often Stiles.  I'm building some pretty good muscle mass.  My mom even said so."  He offered another grin, dimples showing up in his cheeks.    
            "I'm sure she did," Stiles brushed him off before glaring at Derek again.    
            "I bet I could take you," Scott added, chewing a bite of chicken thoughtfully.    
Stiles gasped again.  
            "You could _not._ I'm scrappier than I look!"  
            "I don't know you look pretty scrappy Stiles," Landon cut in.    
Derek took another bite to keep from laughing.  
            "Hey!"    
            "We could find out in the backyard," Henry offered, lips curled in a small smirk.    
            "What is this gang up on Stiles day?" Stiles demanded.    
            "Scrabbling and playing is actually quite normal for werewolves.  As is running and hunting," Henry said.    
            "You can scrabble all you want," Stiles huffed, pushing his chair back.  "I'm going home." 

Derek wiped pizza grease on his thigh before standing.    
Stiles pointed an accusing finger at him,  
            "You were not invited."    
Derek's brows pushed up and he tried to kill his amusement.  It didn't totally work.  
Stiles' eyes narrowed further.  
            "If I'm not getting pizza you're not getting sex."    
Derek glanced to the ceiling briefly, biting his tongue so he didn't smile.  
            "Your father is the one who wants you on first line Stiles."  
            "Yes well he's also the one that doesn't want us having sex so I guess he's just batting a thousand, isn't he?"    
            "You are not using sex as a bargaining chip right now," Derek groaned.  "In front of everyone really?"    
            "They'd hear anyways," Stiles rolled his eyes.   
            "Scott wouldn't," Landon told him, not even bothering to hide his amusement.    
            "I'm not trying to punish you Stiles; I'm trying to help you."  
            "I will not be denied my carbohydrates!"    
            "You didn't even make it three miles today Stiles!"    
Derek looked to Scott; he was trying to achieve the same thing after all and with a much better attitude than Stiles.    
Scott caught his gaze and lifted one shoulder.    
            "Tryouts are in a week and a half, remember?" he questioned gently.    
Stiles managed to glare and pout at the same time.    
Derek rounded the table carefully, tugging him into a hug.    
Stiles bit his shoulder and Derek jumped before chuckling.  
            "It's a diet not the end of the world.  Don't be so grumpy."  
            "Yeah say that with a stomach full of pizza why don't you?"  
            "It's not full.  I could easily put away another four slices."    
Stiles bit him again.    
Derek snapped his teeth but resisted biting Stiles, knowing full well this whole discussion would only head in a different direction.    
            "You still going?"    
Stiles sighed at him.  
            "I guess not."    
            "Good," Grace said, standing as well.  "We're having target practice."    
            "In the dark?" Scott questioned.  
            "Hello, werewolves," Landon laughed.  
            "Oh.  Right." 

Stiles and Scott mostly had to entertain themselves as they couldn't actually see who was winning.    
Derek had run a commentary for a few minutes but eventually gave that up as the two devolved into a poking war.    
When Curtis looked to him he lifted one shoulder in a shrug and took a turn.    
It was nearly an hour before Eden was declared the winner and Derek couldn't help the shock that ran through him.    
Henry was the best shot and they all knew it.  But he was obviously distracted.  And not talking.  Derek threw a significant glance to Curtis, who nodded.  It wasn't Derek's place and he still didn't want it to be.    
Instead he walked Stiles and Scott out to Stiles' jeep, kissed Stiles too fleetingly, and ran the perimeter.

…

Stiles was vibrating with nervous energy, bouncing up and down on his feet, heart racing along in his chest.  It was enough to bleed into Derek and he had to physically stop himself from touching Stiles to try and soothe him.    
A surprising amount of people had turned up for lacrosse tryouts.    
            "I mean-I mean it's not a big deal anyways right?" Stiles was saying, mouth practically blurring around the words.  "I mean my dad said we don't actually have to breakup if I don't make first line it's just about me not dedicating all my time to you and ya know humping like rabbits and stuff-"  
            "He said that?" Derek blurted, cutting him off.  
Stiles laughed breathlessly.  
            "Jesus no.  But it takes the pressure off right?  I mean you would think it would but I don't really know that it actually did.  I mean Derek I had a dream I was running down the field and my shorts were suddenly gone.  There I was in my jersey and cleats waving my stick all over the place-" he cut off, lips pursed, "I could have said that better.  The stick that I need both hands to use, heh."   
            "I don't think your shorts are going to magically disappear Stiles."    
Stiles flailed a bit before slapping his arm.  
            "Shut _up_ I know that!  But it's scary in the dream Jesus."  
            "Stiles, you'll be fine.  Do you want a kiss for luck?"    
Was it sad he was only half teasing?    
            "No!  I need to be focused!  Jesus Derek are you trying to get me benched!  Just-go sit with my dad or something!"   
   
Derek frowned quickly.  
            "I don't want to sit with your dad."  
            "It's either that or your fan club."  
            "I don't-"  
            "Ladies!" Stiles called, waving over Derek's shoulder.    
There was a burst of overly feminine laughter.    
Derek glared before invading Stiles' space and hauling him closer by his hips, hands slipping around to cup his ass firmly.    
Stiles squeaked before pushing at his chest.  
            "Don't trip," he exhaled, kissing Stiles' lips.    
Stiles ground his heel into Derek's foot and he broke away, gasping quietly.    
            "I won't," Stiles glared.  "Now get off me you heathen."  
Derek released him, putting weight back on his throbbing foot gently.  
He limped up the steps, deliberately ignoring the 'oohs' and giggles.  
            "Sheriff."  
            "Derek."  
            "Need some ice?" the sheriff questioned, glancing at Derek over his newspaper.  
            "I'll be fine."      
            "Good to know."    
            "Honest opinion.  How good is he?"    
Derek let himself smile, just a little.  
            "Oh, he's good."  
The sheriff folded his newspaper and tucked his glasses into his shirt pocket.    
            "Alright then."    
A few moments passed in silence, for which Derek was grateful.  
            "Do you mind not molesting my son in public, hm?"    
Derek bit his tongue.  _He asked for it_ probably wasn't a great response.    
He cleared his throat clumsily.  
            "Ah.  Yeah.  Of course.  Right."  
            "Alright then."    
A shrill whistle broke across the field and an excited hush fell over the stands.    
Derek's eyes found Stiles among the maroon crowd without effort.    
            "He's gonna do just fine." 

Stiles had scored and tackled a guy much broader than him before the sheriff got called away so he and Derek shared a smile before he patted Derek's shoulder and edged past him.    
Stiles scored again and got tackled three times before tryouts were over.    
Derek was still gritting his teeth as Stiles came to meet him, jersey heavy with sweat and mud on his temple.    
            "Did you _see_ that?" he enthused.  "I _scored_!  And I don't even think Danny let me!  How _sweet_ is that?"    
            "You were great," Derek told him softly, stepping closer.  
His fingers twitched with the want to reach out.  
Stiles smiled at him, teeth flashing for a second.  
            "I'm fine.  I've got padding.  And it's just lacrosse.  Plus it's not like these guys were actually trying to hurt me.  It wasn't like _real_ competition."  
            "That's supposed to be comforting, isn't it?" Derek questioned, feeling his brows move up.    
            "Yes."    
            "Is it too late for you to join the chess club?"    
Stiles smacked him with his glove.  
            "Yes it is.  Dad had to go huh?"    
            "Work.  He said we'll celebrate tomorrow.  I'm assuming 'we' is you two."    
            "That's a little presumptuous isn't it?  Coach isn't even posting results until after school tomorrow."    
            "Is it that hard of a decision?"  
Stiles scoffed quietly, shaking his head.  
            "He has a flair for the dramatic.  Anyways, I have to go shower.  Meet you in the parking lot?  If you haven't been mauled by your fan club?  We should name them by the way."  
He turned without another word, laying his stick over his shoulder and whistling as his helmet swung from his fingertips.    
Derek had a sinking feeling there was a group of girls right behind him.        
            "Stiles!  _Stiles!_ "  He hissed after him.  
Stiles didn't turn back.

Derek was impatient waiting for Stiles to come back out, trying to look as small as possible leaning on his car.  If he never smelled perfume again it would be too soon.  Two, possibly three, of them had sprayed some on right before talking to him.  And by talking to him he meant invading his space and shamelessly flirting with him.  
It certainly didn't help that he could hear them when they thought he couldn't.  
 _But he's gay_.  
 _He might be bi.  
Or it could be a phase!  
Maybe he just needs to meet the right girl.  
I could change him!  
_ He bit down on a growl.    
He half wished he could explain to them that he was a werewolf and Stiles and he were bonded permanently.  Just to see the looks on their little faces.  
Or he could just flash his fangs.  Just for a second.  Make them doubt what they'd even seen.  
            "Should I leave you alone to your brooding or can we grab some dinner?"  
Derek glowered at him.  
            "They think you're a phase," he said without preamble.  "They see me grab your ass and kiss you, at _your_ tryouts, and they think it's a phase.  They think I'll change.  Stiles-" he paused, trying to find the words, "I can't even wrap my head around it.  I can't."    
Stiles cocked an eyebrow, lips falling open.  
            "And," Derek continued before he could say anything, "I bet even if I explained to them our _situation_ they would still be chasing after me!  They're…so-just…they're insufferable Stiles!  You can't leave me alone with them-" he cut off mid growl, seeing Stiles' smile.  
            "You're happy about this.  Why are you happy about this?"  
Stiles' lips flicked even wider now that he'd been caught out.    
            "Think about it Derek," he said, stepping closer.  "These are the prettiest, most popular girls in school, excluding The Lydia Martin of course, they're supposed to be my competition and you're _repulsed_ by them.  This is fantastic!  It's amazing!  God Derek, I love you so much you have no idea…"  
He grinned and bit down on it before stepping even closer, duffle bag swaying into Derek's hip.   
            "You were testing me?" Derek questioned blankly.    
            "What?  No.  No.  Okay, kind of."      
Derek snorted.  
            "Seriously?"  
            "Well," Stiles flushed, looking down.  "It's just nice isn't it?  Reassuring."  
            "Wait what do you mean _The_ Lydia Martin?" Derek questioned, brain catching up with his mouth.    
Stiles made a choking sound, embarrassment rushing through both of them in a heady wave.    
So much so that Derek felt like blushing too.    
He carefully arched his eyebrow.  
            "Ah-did I say that?  Huh.  We should go eat."  
            "Very smooth."  
            "Seriously I'm starving," Stiles said, running his hand over his hair rapidly.    
            "Okay," Derek agreed, pausing as he rounded the hood, "we can discuss _The_ Lydia Martin over dinner." 

The car ride passed in silence.  Derek waited.    
Stiles would crack first.  He always did.  
Derek sat patiently, hands folded under his chin as he leaned his elbows on the table.  
Stiles groaned.  
            "Do we really have to talk about this?"    
            "I'm curious."    
            "But you know it doesn't matter anymore," Stiles mumbled, picking at his paper placemat.    
            "Stiles.  You put the word 'the' in front of her name."    
Stiles deflated a bit at that.    
            "Well.  It's habit I guess."    
Derek waited.    
            "Okay so my entire adolescence might have been devoted to being in love with her," he exhaled on one long rush of breath.  "But I was a stupid kid and you know it's nothing to worry about.  You _know_ that."    
            "I'm not worried.  I told you I was curious.  And now I know.  So she was your first love."  He swallowed carefully.  "Anything ever happen?"  
Stiles snorted, loudly.  
Derek was immediately, selfishly, relieved.    
            "She likes to deny my entire existence.  Before the whole kidnapping thing at least."    
            "I still don't understand how disappearing for a few months makes you suddenly popular."    
            "Well I was on the news.  And in the paper.  And everyone knows my dad.  And it's not that big of a town.  Plus it's only going to get worse now that you're here.  Did you know I'm up to 112 friends on Facebook?"  He sighed and flicked his rolled up straw wrapper, flinching when it flew off the table.  "Oh my god Derek how are we going to tell people we met?  Why did I not think of this until now?  _Oh my god_."  He slapped his hand over his mouth for a short second.  "No one's asked yet but it's only a matter of time _holy shit_.  Derek this is bad, this is so bad!"    
            "Should we really be discussing this here?" Derek interrupted, laying his hand over Stiles', which was clutching at edge of the table.    
Stiles froze perfectly for a moment.  
            "Right," he let out shallowly.  "Right.  Yeah."    
He relaxed slowly, taking deep, careful breaths.    
            "Is anyone staring?"    
            "No one's talking about us at least," Derek replied.  "Relax.  Worst comes to worst we can tell people I rescued you from the cult.  Then I had to make sure no one was following me before I came after you."    
            "They probably already think you're part of a cult," Stiles sniffed.  "Living on the edge of town with six other people.  Being seen with high school students.  Very suspicious activity Mr. Hale."    
            "I don't even have a response for that," Derek admitted finally.  
Stiles grinned in silent victory. 

The next day Stiles went to school and Derek more or less waited for him to get out.  It was somewhat agonizing but he was still mollified when Stiles launched himself onto Derek at the side of the lacrosse field.  
            "I made it!" he yelled right in Derek's face, mouth splitting into a huge grin.    
Derek caught and held him, smiling slowly.  
            "It was the blueberries."    
Stiles couldn't even manage a scowl.  
            "Oh fuck off," he allowed before kissing Derek hard.    
He pulled back after a few seconds, sighing.  
            "I have to go get changed for practice.  You staying?"    
            "I don't have anywhere else to be," Derek told him honestly.    
            "Okay, great!  Then maybe afterwards if my dad is still at work, I mean he really should be, we can have celebratory sex!  Whoo!"  
Derek set him down regretfully.  
            "Don't be such a tease," he said, smirking again.    
            "I'm not teasing if I'm honestly planning to have sex with you okay.  Also isn't it weird that celebratory sounds so much like celibate?"  
            "Please don't make the horrible joke I know you're just dying to," Derek laughed.  "Go get changed for practice.  You don't want to be late."    
            "Oh shit," Stiles let out, eyes wide.  "You're right, gotta go!"  Stiles flailed and punched his shoulder before turning unsteadily and rushing off.    
Derek smiled and shook his head before heading up the bleachers.    
He realized belatedly he should have asked some of the pack to come with him.

It was a little easier the second time around.    
Still Derek found himself flinching a bit when Stiles got shoved to the ground.    
He seemed happy about it though so Derek would just have to get used to it.    
            "First time?"    
Derek tore his gaze from the field to see a woman two rows down addressing him.  There was a small gap between them.  
            "Uh.  Second."    
She nodded, smiling slowly.  
            "I'm Jacob's mom.  You're…with Stiles, right?"    
Derek fought the urge to blush.    
            "Yeah."  _He's mine_ he wanted to say.  "How'd you know?"    
            "Ah, my daughter, Lana.  For almost two weeks you two all anyone in her circle of friends could talk about."    
Now he was blushing.    
            "Stiles told me it was a small town."    
            "And I can objectively say you are very good looking, not to mention mysterious.  They really just can't help themselves."    
His smile was forced.  
            "Well it gets easier," she said after an awkward pause.  "And you're more than welcome to join us for the games.  We always reserve the third row, home and away."    
Derek was baffled.  Had he just been adopted by lacrosse moms?    
            "Uh, thanks," he managed.    
            "Of course," she smiled, "we get closer to November I start bringing my famous hot chocolate."    
            "Sounds good."  
Silence fell again and Derek went back to watching practice, vaguely relieved. 

Stiles was ecstatic.    
            "You're like women catnip oh my god."    
            "She was just being nice."  
            "You got adopted by the Beacon Hills Brigade."    
Derek was moderately more horrified.  
            "Do they actually call themselves that?"  
            "Who knows?  The point is they took one look at you and saw poor little Oliver Twist all grown up and the answer is yes you can have some more."    
            "I don't even-what-"    
            "Shhhh just let me enjoy this."    
His phone started vibrating somewhere in his book bag and Derek grinned as Stiles' blissful expression faltered.    
            "Hey Dad."    
            "So?" the sheriff questioned.    
Stiles actually beamed, cheeks flushing pink.  
            "I made it."    
            "Fantastic," the sheriff hummed and Derek could picture him smiling too.  "How about a late lunch?  Schmidt's?"    
            "Um, yeah.  I could be there in like-"  
            "I'll meet you, twenty minutes?"    
Stiles' wince was brief.  
            "Yeah, great."    
            "Derek can come too."  
Stiles rocked back and forth on his heels, beaming once again.    
            "Thanks Dad."    
            "Mmm.  See you two soon."    
            "Love you."  
            "Love you Son."  
  
When his phone was safely back in his pocket Stiles grabbed Derek's wrist before tangling their fingers.  
            "Okay so dinner and then sex.  Somehow."   
            "You have bed time now remember?"    
            "Fuck off nothing important happens until the third week of school, everyone knows that."  
            "So you really want to try sneaking sex around your dad?  That seems like a good idea?"  
They paused a foot from the car, hands still pressed together.    
            "We could totally make it happen and you know it," Stiles insisted, leaning closer.    
            "I have no doubt in my mind that he would shoot me."  
            "Don't be silly he won't shoot you if there's a chance of hitting me.  And if we're both naked he'll obviously be distracted.  Not to mention he just invited you for dinner, he clearly likes you."    
            "You've got to be kidding.  I still have to call him Sheriff," Derek reminded him.  
Stiles snorted.  
            "No you don't."  
            "We're not exactly on a first name basis.  Even if I did know his first name."    
            "If you called my dad by his first name I would be creeped out.  Stick with Sheriff."    
            "Yeah thanks.  Speaking of I still don't know your first name.  Are you ever going to tell me?"    
            "Ah, ah, that's for after the wedding.  Can't sell the milk if you give the cow away for free.  Or something like that."    
            "Are you serious?" Derek had to laugh.    
            "Sorry sweet cheeks," Stiles sighed, pecking his cheek, "first name is top secret I could tell you but I'd have to kill you stuff."  He pushed Derek towards the car gently, hips swinging.  "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like it's better than yours…" he sang under his breath.    
Derek stared for a beat too long before finally unlocking the car.

            "We're not having sex with your dad down the hall," Derek said for the fifth, maybe sixth time.  
At least this time they were stopped at a red light.  
            "Derek, come on!  I made first line!  I deserve this!"    
            "You don't want to get caught by your dad anymore than I do and we both know it.  Are you arguing just for the sake of argument?"    
            "Would I do a thing like that?"    
            "Apparently," Derek huffed.    
            "But I want sex," he whined.  "It's not fair."    
            "But you still live with your father.  Who is the proud owner of more than one gun."  
            "What if I hide the ammo?"    
            "We cannot be having this discussion," Derek sighed.  "We cannot _still_ be having this discussion."    
            "But I can't hold sex over your head if we're already not having sex.  How do you not understand this?"    
            "You bring up the most ridiculous points I've ever heard.  You know that?"    
            "Thank you."    
            "Okay.  Okay.  Compromise.  After school, tomorrow."    
            "In the locker room?"    
            "What?" Derek demanded.    
            "Come on it's always been a fantasy of mine."    
Derek couldn't help the repulsion rolling through him.    
            "I don't think you can imagine how bad a locker room would smell to me Stiles."    
Stiles' face fell.  
            "Oh.  Right.  Well that makes sense, yeah."  
            "I could-"  
            "No I don't want you smelling thirty other guys' junk when I want you focused on mine."    
Derek tried to keep a straight face.  He couldn't, glancing away from the road to see Stiles biting at his lips.  
            "I'm sorry," Stiles laughed quickly, "the most ridiculous things really do come out of my mouth."    
            "I know."    
            "This is what it's gonna be like, huh?"  
Derek had to turn back to the road, slowing down as they approached the restaurant.  
            "Mm?"    
            "We're gonna have stupid arguments and bicker back and forth and then just sort of fit together anyways."    
He flicked the turn signal and kept his eyes on oncoming traffic, lips curving.  
            "Maybe.  Yeah."                       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay you guys
> 
> everything about this fic has just gone so much further than I ever thought it would
> 
> I honestly wasn't anywhere near ready for it..I'm still not actually
> 
> and I've been putting myself under a lot of pressure
> 
> so fluff
> 
> I really hope it's not too disappointing, thank you


	30. Or Ever Come to Pass

Stiles leaned forward to fiddle with the radio, not finding anything good in the three seconds he searched.  He flopped back into his seat and sighed, wincing at the easy listening that was filling the car.   
He was all but thrumming with nervous energy and it was not okay.   
It hadn't even been half an hour since his father had clapped him on the shoulder and said, somewhat sternly, _just be polite Son, you'll be fine._  
Derek and he were driving, which Stiles still didn't quite understand.   
His father was flying out to meet them in two days.   
And Scott was a bit too thrilled that Gus would be staying at the McCall house.  
Because they were spending Christmas in Maine.  With the Hales.   
Stiles swallowed around a groan, heart giving a few extra kicks in his chest.   
Derek turned the radio down without a word, one hand settling on Stiles' thigh.  His thumb began rubbing small circles where it rested.   
            "Why don't you get some sleep?" he suggested gently.   
            "Sleep?  I can't sleep!  How would I even sleep right now?"   
            "We're going to be in the car for hours.  Sleep is the easiest way to pass the time," Derek suggested wryly.   
            "What, you don't want to play I Spy?"   
Derek barked out a laugh.  
            "No.  No I don't."    
            "Damn," Stiles sighed halfheartedly.   
Derek squeezed his leg again.  
            "Relax.  They're going to love you," he paused significantly, "and at least they won't threaten to shoot you."  
            "Is that supposed to be comforting?"   
And Derek laughed again.  
            "Yeah," he offered with a grin.  
Stiles pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.  
            "I hate you." 

Stiles made it an hour and a half before he gave up, dropping his seat back down and pulling his coat from the back, using it as a blanket. 

When he woke up they were still driving but it was snowing.   
Stiles frowned as he blinked at it.  
            "Snow?"   
            "Yes," Derek agreed, "snow."   
            "Why is there snow?" Stiles questioned, even as he thought his confusion should be quite obvious.   
            "Because it's snowing?" Derek said, innocently enough.  
Stiles scowled at him.   
            "Okay.  _Why_ is it _snowing_?"   
            "I imagine because it's winter."   
Stiles smacked him.  
            "You're not subtle at all.  Now tell me where we are."   
Derek smirked.  
            "No."   
            "What do you mean no?"   
            "I mean I'm not telling you where we are."   
            "Why?"  
            "Because, it's a surprise."   
Stiles paused at this.  
            "A romantic surprise?"   
            "Maybe," was all Derek conceded.   
Stiles pulled his coat back up to his chin before slumping again.

           "Hey come on.  Wake up."   
Stiles stretched lazily, frowning when his legs couldn't move any further.   
            "What?"   
            "We're here."   
The car was perfectly quiet and Stiles cracked open one eye slowly.   
There was more snow and trees.  
            "We're where?"   
Rather than answer Derek opened his door and swung out.  
Stiles flinched at the cold air and grumbled to himself before unraveling his cocoon and stumbling out of the car.  
            "Oh," he managed, blinking a few times at the bright sunlight glaring off the snow.  
            "Does this pass as romantic?" Derek questioned, glancing back to him.   
Stiles' lips curled, mostly against his will.  
            "Yeah.  Yeah I think it does."   
Derek looked incredibly pleased with himself.  
When he offered his hand Stiles took it anyways. 

Everyone was waiting at the diner and it was clear this had been planned out ahead of time.   
A cheer went up as they entered and Stiles felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment.  Instinctively, he tucked himself into Derek's side earning cooing from the pack.   
            "I would just like to begin," Ross said, "by saying I told you so.  I told you all."   
There was more clapping and Derek laughed quickly before kissing the side of Stiles' head.   
            "Yes your record remains nearly perfect, Dad," Aiden added, taking a swig of beer before crossing to them and offering his hand.  "It's good to see both of you again," he said with a smile.   
Stiles shook his hand first, followed by Derek.  
            "My record _is_ perfect, I just didn't want to break your heart," Ross clapped Aiden on the shoulder as he said it but Aiden still winced.   
            "Happier things today, yes?" Aiden said, shaking it off and turning back to the crowd.  "Come on!"   
Taylor broke free first, Brennan right on his heels as always.   
Stiles grinned so wide his cheeks ached.   
            "I _knew_ it," Taylor was saying, triumphant.  "I so knew it, in your face Stiles."  He yanked him into a hug, clapping his back almost painfully.  
            "Yeah, yeah, alright shut up already," Stiles returned, still grinning.  
Brennan hugged him too and then Aubrey was waddling over, literally waddling.  
            "Oh my god," Stiles exhaled, mouth moving without thought.  
            "I know," she said, happily flushed, "I know.  I'm huge."   
            "Well…yes," Stiles agreed lamely, biting the inside of his cheek.  
Aubrey laughed softly, leaning in to hug half of him.  
            "I'm okay with it.  I see it as my baby being really healthy.  Ten fingers and toes already."   
            "No tail?" Stiles questioned, mouth misbehaving again.   
Aubrey just smiled and rolled her eyes.  
            "Chances are my baby's human.  Pregnancy itself is rare enough."   
            "Well way to go Bella Swan."   
That earned him a light smack and she moved to Derek, accepting a kiss on the cheek and half hugging him too.   
            "You really shouldn't tease pregnant people Stiles," Derek chided.   
            "I can't help it sass is my default setting."   
            "I am well aware," Derek replied, pinching his hip. 

Shane finally made his way through the crowd, gently pushing people to the side before edging through.   
            "Little man!"  
            "Jesus I forgot how big you are," Stiles returned, only half kidding.   
            "That's the best you've got, really?"   
            "Sorry I didn't have time to prepare," Stiles rolled his eyes, laughing as Shane tugged him into a hug, both feet leaving the ground.  "Jesus Christ, put me down," he laughed again.   
            "I'm getting there," Shane said, shaking Derek's hand while he held Stiles in one arm.  
  
            "Well this is a boost to my ego," Stiles sighed.  
            "Alright, alright, you're whiny today, geez.  Clearly Derek hasn't fed you recently."  Shane finally set him down and Stiles patted his arm before stepping back.   
            "He hasn't," Stiles agreed with wide eyes.  "We've been in the car for hours."   
            "Most of which you were asleep for," Derek added dryly.  
            "You could totally feed me while I'm asleep.  Just feed me like a mama bird."   
Derek rolled his eyes.  
            "Well there is food.  Kayleigh actually helped me make it," Shane added with a smile.  
Stiles arched a brow, feeling Derek perk in interest too.  
            "Kayleigh?" he questioned, innocently enough.   
            "Yeah," Shane agreed with a quick smile, his neck flushing pink just barely.   
            "Did someone say my name?"   
A petite blonde appeared.  Ridiculously enough the first thing Stiles thought was _of course, of course she's fucking tiny_.   
He was distracted briefly by thoughts of the lion with the thorn in his paw and the mouse that tugged it free for him.  
            "Kayleigh, this is Stiles and Derek.  Guys this is Kayleigh.  We're…seeing each other."   
Kayleigh flushed prettily at this, glancing down before offering a dainty hand.  
Stiles was tempted to kiss the back of it for about half a second, which more or less blew his mind.   
            "It's nice to meet you both," she offered quietly.   
She was kind of like…a Disney Princess or something.  
Stiles worked to close his jaw as he finally took her hand, gingerly.   
Derek offered a smile as they shook hands and Stiles wondered if Derek was affected at all.   
He felt sort of off balance.   
 _Seeing each other?_ He mouthed when he caught Derek's eye.   
One shoulder lifted barely in response.  
Stiles supposed his curiosity would just have to wait.

People fawned over Derek _smiling more_ and _coming out of his shell_ and Stiles was very much amused.   
            "I guess I've been good for you," he teased, slipping an arm around Derek's back.   
Derek sighed but his expression was still affectionate.   
            "Yes," he said, "you have."   
Stiles softened at the words, smiling at him.   
            "Stop getting all mushy I refuse to cry," he sniffled, fingertip dabbing at his eye.   
            "Oh shut up and go get food.  I'll be fine on my own."   
            "But I'm entertained right here."   
Derek shook his head and pushed Stiles away by his shoulder.     
Stiles made sure to stick out his tongue as he went.   
            "Good to see things haven't really changed," Ross offered, handing Stiles an empty plate as he approached one of the food tables.   
            "Not between us at least," Stiles said, brows inching up.   
            "Are you trying to imply that things have changed here?"   
Stiles started filling his plate and waited.  
"Yes well I suppose they have," Ross admitted.  "Our situation is a bit…less desperate now.  We don't need to increase our numbers like we did when you were here.  Now we can invite people to stay, invite them to run, rather than take them against their will."   
He glanced back to Stiles, who was frozen with a ladleful of baked beans.  
            "It's a long story," Ross deflected.  "We still use our internet filters but it's much more…amicable."   
            "So when Shane says he and Kayleigh are 'seeing each other'…" Stiles let the statement drift.   
            "Yes they are.  In a few weeks they'll both decide if they want to run."   
            "Well, that certainly sounds…nicer," Stiles admitted haltingly.   
            "It's amazing what an alliance will do for you."   
            "An alliance?  With who?"  
Ross smiled before grabbing an olive and tossing it past his lips.  
            "I think you already know the answer to that question."   
            "I do?"  
Ross glanced significantly back in the direction he'd come.   
            "Oh," Stiles let out.  " _Oh_."  He paused a moment.  "Oh my god am I about to marry into an ancient werewolf dynasty?"   
His horror was cut off by Ross' laughter.  
            "Not that I'm aware of, no."   
Stiles blew out a sigh of relief before moving down the table again.  
            "Good because that is just way too much pressure.  And I just started picturing the Malfoys which is just not good on any count."   
            "If I pretend to understand that reference will it make you feel better?"   
Stiles shrugged before shoving a roll into his mouth. 

            "So when were you planning on telling me that your family is like the werewolf mafia?" Stiles questioned mouth mostly full.   
Derek's brows rose comically.  
            "I'm sorry, what?"   
            "An alliance with this pack?  And now they do things completely differently?  Care to explain?"   
            "I didn't work out the technical details."   
            "Oh my god you totally sound like a spoiled…prince or something right now."   
            "My family is not that big of a deal.  Stop trying to freak yourself out."   
            "Not that big of a deal?  I will be the judge of that, thank you very much."   
            "Just don't have a nervous breakdown, okay?"   
Stiles scoffed and shoved a bite of pasta salad in his mouth.  
            "Nervous breakdown," he said, chewing, "hah, I'm as cool as a cucumber."   
            "Sure you are," Derek agreed easily.  "But you haven't actually met them yet."   
            "Untrue.  I've met Curtis and Aaron.  And Peter."   
            "And yet you're still nervous."  
Stiles didn't bother to lie, eating more.  
            "Parents are a big deal," he finally admitted, chasing a noodle around his plate.   
Derek signed quietly.  
            "We're already mated.  Even if they didn't like you they'd just pretend until we left again."   
Stiles gaped at him, the noodle he'd finally speared slipping free again.  
            "That's even worse!"   
Derek blinked a few times.  
            "Worse?" he managed before Stiles cut him off.   
            "Now I'm going to spend the whole time wondering if they _actually_ like me and if they're spending every moment when I'm in the bathroom to whisper about me!  They can use their super werewolf hearing to do it Derek!"   
            "I really don't know whether to try and comfort you or tease you more."   
            "I don't know whether to stomp on your toe or punch you right in the nose."   
Derek's slight smile didn't waiver.   
            "Go ahead but when we get there and they love you and all this worrying was for absolutely nothing you're going to owe me."   
Stiles ate more to keep his mouth busy.

They stayed most of the day, finally piling into the car after dinner huddled by the bonfire.   
            "It was really nice seeing everyone again," Stiles said, "thank you."  He rubbed at his chilled nose and offered Derek a smile.   
            "You're welcome," Derek returned, turning the heat up.  "Now, would you like to actually drive or did you want to fly the rest of the way?"   
            "Fly?"   
            "We have tickets on reserve in Walla Walla…if you want them."   
            "So this whole driving thing was an elaborate ruse just to come up here?" Stiles demanded.   
            "Um.  Pretty much.  Yeah."   
            "Oh my god my dad was in on it too, wasn't he?"   
            "Obviously," Derek agreed.   
            "I feel so betrayed," Stiles exhaled.   
            "Stiles," Derek said patiently, "are we driving or flying?"   
            "Flying.  Duh."      

The airport was huge and appeared sterile on first inspection, even filled with travelers as it was.  The plane was huge too but had so many seats that Stiles felt too cramped to breathe properly.  
Still it was his first flight since he'd been very young and at least this one wasn't for a funeral.  So.  He'd look on the bright side he supposed.  
Derek, however, had never flown before and he apparently wasn't thrilled with the idea of being so confined.   
            "We could have driven," Stiles offered halfheartedly.   
It was too late now but he really didn't know what else to do.  
            "No," Derek said with a forced lightness, "this is faster.  Faster is good."  He frowned briefly.  "It's more conducive to me getting some rest anyways.  And obeying speed limits."  
Stiles chose not to comment on the last part.   
            "It's really not that big a deal," he tried again, "I mean really we just have to kill the time."  He paused thoughtfully.  "I shouldn't have said 'kill' huh?"   
            "Stiles, I'll be fine.  Stop helping."   
            "Oh god, you don't want me to be quiet do you?  You know that's like…next to impossible for me.  Derek," he whined, lips pushing out in a pout.   
            "I will be fine," Derek repeated slowly, "stop helping."   
Stiles pressed his lips together, which didn't do much good at all.   
            "I just-uh-what do you want me to do?  I want to really help.  I am actually trying to help here."   
Half of Derek's mouth curled in a smile.  
            "I know that."   
He tugged Stiles closer by the chin, kissing him quickly.   
            "I'll be fine.  We're most likely not going to crash.  I'll be fine."   
            "Okay and when we hit the tarmac in Maine it's your turn to comfort me."               
            "Alright," Derek agreed, kissing him again. 

            "Maybe you could sleep," Stiles suggested quietly, nearly half an hour later, "at least until the first layover."  
            "Layover," Derek snorted.  "Is there anything more ridiculous than us flying _north_ to Seattle before flying _east_ to Philadelphia and then _north again_ to Maine?"   
            "Well personally I think those little tiny round pastas are pretty ridiculous.  Actually, the ones shaped like wagon wheels are really dumb too.  I mean, Derek, do you even know how many pasta shapes there are?  There's like…over three hundred!  Or something totally ridiculous.  I mean come on.  It's pasta.  It pretty much all tastes the same.  Like the sauce you put over it.  I mean how bored were Italians anyway?  Aren't they busy trimming their mustaches and falling in love?  And being plumbers?  Wait I think that's just Mario…  Ignore that.  But seriously.  _Seriously_.  Why are there so many pasta shapes?"   
Derek was watching him with an amused twist to his lips and Stiles blew out a short breath before smiling back.   
            "In conclusion, there are many, many, many things more ridiculous than layover flights."   
            "No keep going.  This is good, you're distracting me."   
            "Oh Derek.  The times when you tell me to keep talking are so few.  Let's just take a second to appreciate this moment," he paused briefly, "okay but anyway layover flights are kind of like Raisin Bran.  No one likes them.  No one wants to have them.  And yet…they exist.  It is a fact of life.  Just ask my dad."   
            "You feed your dad Raisin Bran?" Derek questioned, laughing quickly.  
            " _Technically_ no.  I buy the Raisin Bran.  And then he feeds himself.  Or finds a creative way to get rid of it…  Actually I don't have proof that he actually eats the Raisin Bran.  That's a problem."   
            "I can ask him and tell you whether he lies."   
            "Normally I wouldn't support using your wolfy powers on my dad-" he paused at Derek's raised brow, "okay when sex isn't involved," he whispered.  "But we should probably do that."   
            "It is important to find out if you're wasting your money," Derek agreed soberly.   
            "Yeah and I don't want to be an orphan at 21," Stiles muttered.  "Right no mention of death," he forced a smile.  "So we have time for last minute shopping, right?  Because I haven't actually gotten your present yet."  He grimaced quickly, picking at a gouge in his armrest before looking back to Derek.   
            "We have time.  But the mall's pretty far away and it's going to be crowded."   
            "Well you can't come _with_ me obviously.  I'll have to go by myself or with someone else."   
            "You're silly," Derek told him, leaning closer to kiss his nose.       

The first layover they spent shopping.   
The second flight they spent with their new books.   
Derek with the crime novel _Guilt_ and Stiles with _Where's Waldo: The 25 th Anniversary Edition_.  
The second layover was eating and curling up on a bench to wait.   
Derek went back to his book and Stiles did his best not to annoy him, wishing he'd bought an actual book to read too.   
            "I think your dad will like this," Derek said eventually.   
Stiles smiled loosely.  
            "Your attempts to bond with him are admirable Derek."  
            "Who said I'm not reading it because I want to?"   
            "Um because my dad loves crime novels and you just mentioned that you thought he'd like it."  
Derek was quiet for a moment.   
            "Well I'm going to be around.  He's just going to have to love me eventually."  
            "You have a point I suppose," Stiles agreed quietly.      
Derek ruffled his hair before kissing it.   
            "Everything will be fine.  I promise."

By the time they finally arrived in Maine Stiles had to admit he was less than thrilled.   
To a certain extent Derek was right.  They were mates no matter what.  But still…  If Derek's parents didn't like him…  What if they regretted sending Derek and the small pack out to California?  He gnawed on his lip in silence.   
            "We'll be there soon," Derek said softly, "just remember to breathe."   
Stiles snorted.  
            "Basic body function, think I got that down thanks."   
            "Well if you pass out I can't promise they won't tease you mercilessly.  Especially Aaron.  And Mom."   
Stiles scowled at him, which Derek ignored effortlessly.   
He glanced out the window, only mildly amused by the fact that there was nearly two feet of snow on the ground.  
They'd certainly never had this much snow back home and Stiles wished Scott was here so they could build a snowman together.  Or some snow forts.  Derek would probably just laugh.  And he was supposed to be making a good impression anyways.  Stiles sighed again.  He'd just have to behave.   
  
Derek drove slowly, obviously aware that Stiles was already on edge.  
Stiles curled into his seat and wrapped his arms around his knees.   
            "So when are you going to tell me what you got me for Christmas?" he questioned, putting on a hopeful expression.  
            "I'm not going to tell you.  You're going to open it on Christmas just like everyone else."   
            "But it could really cheer me up," Stiles protested.   
            "Nice try," Derek smirked.   
            "Thank you."   
            "At least I already have my shopping done."   
Stiles sighed.  
            "I am a notoriously bad shopper.  Hope that's not a deal breaker for you."   
            "Mmm you might be just cute enough to get away with it."   
Stiles preened a moment before settling in again.     
            "Well what do you think my dad got me?"  
            "It's not like he asked me," Derek protested, too quickly.   
            "Oh my god he did ask you.  You two _are_ bonding!"  
            "It was just a passing comment.  He didn't even really ask me.  He asked Henry.  And Henry asked me.  I didn't tell you any of that."   
            "But what did you _tell_ him?"   
            "This conversation is now over."  
            "Oh come on, that's no fun."   
            "Why don't we talk about the fact that you still haven't bought my present?"   
Stiles blinked a few times, mouth hanging open wordlessly.   
            "Admittedly that does seem a bit more important…"  
Stiles sighed again.  It was a pretty good deflection.  
He spent the rest of the drive once again brainstorming presents, poorly. 

Stiles' stomach crawled right up into his throat as they finally rolled to a stop outside a huge white farmhouse.  The porch and several windows were illuminated; the Hales must be waiting for them.  Whether Derek texted while he was asleep or they heard the car coming Stiles wasn't sure.  He supposed it didn't matter either way.   
            "Okay," he said, half to himself.  "This is it.  We're here.  Okay."   
            "Yes," Derek agreed simply, cutting the engine.   
            "Okay," Stiles said again, a bit quieter.   
            "Hey," Derek murmured, guiding Stiles to look at him, "don't be scared okay?  They're going to love you, I swear."   
Stiles managed a nod, just barely.  
Derek smiled, fingertips tracing over the swell of his cheek.   
            "I mean it."   
            "Yeah okay," Stiles whispered.   
Derek kissed him, a quick, chaste press.   
Stiles exhaled slowly as he drew back.  
            "Let's go in."   
Stiles met him at the hood of the rental, reminding himself to breathe.  His lips twisted just a bit cynically at that.   
Derek folded their hands together, twisting their fingers.  
Suppressing another sigh, Stiles followed him up the steps.   
The door opened easily under Derek's hand and Stiles smelled hot cookies, inhaling deeply in appreciation.  
            "We're in here!" a woman's voice announced from the left.  
Derek glanced back at Stiles before tugging him forward.   
They moved through a dining room before stopping at an open set of french doors.   
What Stiles really hoped was Derek's entire family, because there were a _ton_ of people, were all gathered in a huge room, sharing a few sofas and folding chairs.   
He tucked himself into Derek's back clumsily, hiding his burning face in Derek's neck. 

It worked for about two seconds as everyone in the room greeted Derek.   
            "And this must be Stiles," the same woman said, followed by absolute silence.  
Stiles couldn't help it, he peeked.   
He guessed this was Derek's mother.  They sort of had the same chin.   
            "Hi," he offered, the word hushed by Derek's shoulder.   
            "Hello," she smiled.  "I'm Elizabeth.  You can call be Beth.  Or Liz.  Or Mom.  Whatever.  Just not Mrs. Hale, please."   
Stiles' heart gave a painful thump at the thought of calling her _Mom_ but he did his best to ignore it.  Inhaling quickly he stepped out from behind Derek, avoiding hooking his foot in the doorframe, and offered his hand.   
            "It's really nice to meet you.  Officially."   
She smiled again and nodded, glancing to Derek for a moment that seemed significant.  
            "I'll introduce you to everyone." 

The Hales were a lot to take in.  For as tiny as the Stilinski family was, the Hale family was equally huge.   
Stiles met Derek's grandparents, his other uncle, his aunt, his cousin, and the rest of his siblings.  Not to mention his father.   
Stiles was wound so tight exhaustion was beginning to tug at him, slumping his shoulders and willing his eyes to close.  He must have slipped off without realizing it, jolting awake as he fell into the couch.   
Derek had abandoned him in favor of the plate of cookies his mother was offering.  
            "Hey!" Stiles protested, "I was using you."   
A stack of cookies in each hand and mouth full, Derek came back, expression mildly guilty.   
            "Peanut butter cookies," he mumbled, more than one person chuckling behind his back.   
            "You'll have to forgive him Stiles, they are his favorite," Beth explained.   
Stiles crossed his arms, lifting a brow expectantly.   
A frown pressed Derek's lips, as if he was seriously considering this problem.   
            "Sorry?" he offered.   
            "Peanut butter," Stiles returned, " _really_ Derek?"   
Derek ate a cookie off the stack in his left hand, barely looking down to do it.   
            "Did you want one?" he offered once he swallowed.   
Stiles was working really hard not to smile.   
Derek just looked so torn between being happy he had cookies and being sad because Stiles was glaring at him.  
            "Keep your cookies," he said finally, "just no more sudden movements."   
            "Okay," Derek agreed, going back to his cookies.  
Stiles let himself smile briefly before settling on his shoulder again. 

Asides from having the power to lure Derek away with cookies, Derek's mom was really cool.   
Well, to be fair, every Hale, other than Aaron, was really cool.  Even his dad seemed pretty chill and he was like…the boss around here.  
In any case Derek's mom only let Stiles doze off one more time before she suggested that both Derek and Stiles tuck in for the night.  She even had Aaron and Peter bring in their luggage for them.   
            "Your mom's pretty cool," Stiles sighed, leaning on Derek going up the stairs.   
Derek hummed in agreement.  
            "She'll be glad you think so."   
            "Everybody's pretty cool," Stiles continued, apparently okay with blabbing his every thought.  "Except Aaron.  He's still an asshole."   
Derek laughed.  
            "He is."   
            "But you know," Stiles said next, drifting off as the toe of his sneaker caught the edge of the step.  He concentrated exactly on lifting his foot.  
            "But what?" Derek questioned as they started the second flight of stairs.  
            "Hm?"  
            "You were saying something."  
            "Was I?" Stiles questioned, dumbfounded.   
Derek hummed again.  
Stiles thought a long moment.  
            " _Oh_ ," he finally let out, "I'm glad we came."   
            "Yeah?" Derek questioned his voice husky curling into Stiles' ear.  
            "I like your family.  And I haven't screwed up yet so."  Stiles thought about shrugging but quickly abandoned the idea.   
There was a press of lips to his temple.  
            "You're not going to screw up."

Stiles woke violently to Derek screaming and cursing.  
He clambered back on the bed breathing heavily, eyes glowing blue.  
            "Aaron!" he yelled, veins standing out in his neck.  
Stiles peered around the room curiously.  
            "Mom!"  
            "Wait, mom?" Stiles demanded, voice still sleep rough.   
            "He couldn't have set them all by himself," Derek growled, tearing a hand through his hair.   
            "Set them?"   
Derek pointed to the floor in a sharp motion.   
Stiles rolled enough to peer over the edge of the bed cautiously.  Then he blinked several times, refusing to believe what he was seeing.   
            "I don't suppose you guys have a really horrendous rodent problem?" Stiles questioned finally, rolling back to the middle of the bed and stretching.   
Derek's eyes were closed and he snorted quickly.   
            "No."   
Derek yanked the sheet and cover back onto the bed, setting several more mousetraps snapping in the process.   
            "Mom," he repeated voice strangely level, "why are there mousetraps on Stiles' side of the bed?"   
Stiles assumed she replied because Derek's mouth scrunched up.  
            "And what if he had rolled out of bed unexpectedly?"   
Another response he couldn't hear.  
            "That's not the point."   
Stiles sighed and rubbed at the corner of his eye.  
            "I didn't bring him home for you to maim him," Derek sighed.   
            "She's not apologizing is she?"  
            "No.  She's very pleased with herself.  And I'm to come down and help with breakfast."  He ran his hands down his face quickly.  "Could I borrow your shirt?" 

Stiles wasn't admitting it out loud for several reasons, but watching Derek set off most of the traps by whipping his shirt against the floor had been pretty hilarious.  He wondered offhandedly if this was a prank frequently played.  Surely they didn't have that many mousetraps just lying around casually.  He shook his head quickly before kicking some aside and heading downstairs.   
The kitchen was in the front of the house.  Derek, his mother, and Peter were all helping prepare breakfast.   
            "I do hope you're not upset Stiles," Beth called over her shoulder.  "Just a harmless bit of fun right?"   
            "Uh yeah," he agreed slowly, "right."  
            "You're not upset with me either are you Stiles?" Aaron questioned, throwing an arm around Stiles' shoulders and tugging him close.  He batted his eyelashes waiting for Stiles' answer.  
Stiles grunted and shrugged him off.  
            "You are such an asshole."   
Peter laughed loudly at that.   
            "It is widely agreed, Aaron is an asshole."   
            "I suspected as much," Stiles replied archly.   
He made his way across the kitchen to where Derek was manning the stove.  
            "Good morning," he offered, leaning against him for a moment.  
            "Morning," Derek returned, bumping his hip against Stiles'.   
            "You're in a better mood," Stiles teased gently.  
Derek sighed softly before rolling his eyes.   
            "My family," he said, as if that answered everything.  
Stiles thought maybe it did. 

Stiles' father arrived without much fanfare.   
He was quiet and calm and, it took Stiles a while to realize it but, quite like he was at work.   
            "You're cheating!" Stiles accused when they finally escaped to the mall.   
In the crush of hundreds of shoppers no one even glanced their way.   
            "What are you talking about?" his father questioned, one brow arched.  
            "You're in Sheriff Mode and it's totally cheating!  You're supposed to be at least half as uncomfortable as I am."   
His father paused an awkward moment.   
            "Sorry you feel that way Son."   
            " _Sorry you feel that way_?  What?  Dad, are you okay?"   
            "I'm fine," he answered, not looking at Stiles.   
            "Dad," Stiles protested.  
            "Let's go in here," his father said, turning right abruptly.   
Stiles got cut off by two families plowing ahead and then distracted by a shiny watch, forgetting what they were talking about by the time he saw his father again.  
            "Do you think I should get Derek a watch?" he questioned.   
His father squinted at him.  
            "Does Derek even wear a watch?"   
            "Oh," Stiles sighed.  "Well maybe it's because he doesn’t have one."   
            "I think he could have gotten one by now if he'd wanted one."   
            "You're probably right," Stiles sighed.  "I can't actually be _this_ bad at this.  Can I?  Or is this all just a weird nightmare?  Please tell me it's a nightmare," Stiles pleaded.   
            "Stiles I still have the pink and blue striped bowtie you bought me when you were nine."  
            "That was a joke," Stiles tried.  
His father didn't say anything.  He didn't have to.  He just gave him a _look_.   
            "Well Mom asked for my help," Stiles added.  "She totally threw me under the bus."   
            "She thought you were adorable actually."   
            "I was adorable," Stiles sniffed. 

An hour later Stiles was no closer to selecting Derek's present.  
            "This is awful," he groaned, covering his face with both hands.   
            "You'll find something, I'm sure."   
Stiles groaned again.  
            "You've been saying that for like a month now."   
            "Well…" his father paused long enough to sigh, "if worst comes to worst you two can go shopping together after Christmas.  Then you'll know he likes it."   
            "Why did he ever even fall in love with me?  I'm like the most pathetic person to ever be pathetic ever."   
            "Eloquent as always Stiles," his father said, lips quirked just barely.   
Stiles didn't bother with a response, letting his hands flop to his sides before sighing.   
His father smoothed his hair down in a strangely affectionate motion.  
            "Things are just out of our control sometimes.  That's life."   
            "Yeah," he agreed softly.   
The moment was oddly serious and Stiles remembered his father's closed off behavior suddenly.  
            "Are you okay?"  
His father blinked a few times before smiling just a bit.  
            "I'm fine," he said.  "Life.  You know."    
Stiles didn't know actually.  He knew not to press right now but he had no idea what was going on with his father.  
He pulled him into a one armed hug for several moments before letting him go.  
            "Okay," he said brightly, "let's do this." 

Leaving the mall Stiles wasn't entirely sure his father had been a help.  They ended up in the electronics department of the largest store and Stiles had _finally_ settled on the newest version of the Nook, which his father then spent nearly forty minutes talking him out of.  Instead he got Derek a speaker system.  Stiles figured he could listen to music while he sketched or while he read _an actual book_ because he certainly wasn't getting a Nook now.   
At least he had something to wrap.   
That was a relief.  
Really he can't think of many things that would be more embarrassing than not having a present for his mate to open while spending Christmas with his mate's family.  Stiles shook his head just at the thought.   
And things had gone pretty well really so…Stiles supposed he couldn't, or shouldn't rather, complain.  Now that most of the stress was over he could just enjoy the holiday.   
  
On the drive back he got a text from Derek that there was a surprise waiting and to come behind the house as soon as he arrived.  
Stiles spent the rest of the drive insanely curious.   
His dad was leaning against the window, eyes closed.   
Stiles wasn't sure if he was actually asleep or not.   
He didn't press his luck either way, remaining silent until he parked in front of the house.  
            "Dad?"  
            "Mm?"  
Awake then.  
            "We're back."   
            "Okay."   
            "You know I'm here," Stiles began haltingly, "if you…want…to…you know…uh…talk…or-"  
            "I know," his father cut in and Stiles was grateful.   
            "Okay great," Stiles called over his shoulder, evacuating the car.   

He made his way back around the house, zipping his coat up tight and digging his borrowed mittens out of his pockets.  Breath fogged out in front of his face and he wrinkled his nose at the cold briefly.  It was definitely colder here than he was used to.  Not to mention all the snow underfoot.  He couldn't get used to it crunching under his boots.  Or the fact that it really looked like he was in a movie about Alaska right now.   
There was a lantern settled in the snow and Stiles picked it up as he wandered further from the glow of the house.   
Pure darkness settled in a hollow between the trees and swallowing quickly, he moved into it.   
Trees creaked in the wind and snow kept crunching under his feet as he progressed forward.  Really Stiles didn't know why he didn't just call out.  It wasn't like they didn't know exactly where he was.  He supposed old habits die hard.   
Derek stepped out of nowhere and made Stiles drop his lantern, chuckling as Stiles smacked his arm.   
            "Hey," Derek said, still laughing quietly.   
            "Ugh, I hate you," Stiles snapped, bending to scoop the lantern up and wipe it off.  "I can't believe I just bought you a huge, totally awesome present."   
            "You finally found something then?"  
            "Yes," Stiles sniffed.   
            "Good," Derek returned easily, taking his hand and tugging him deeper into the woods.   
They walked in silence for several moments before finally coming to a clearing.  
Stiles' jaw fell open at the looming grey shapes all but filling it.  
            "What-" he managed.   
Derek didn't answer so he just blinked at them for a couple seconds.  
            "Oh my god.  Oh…my god.  Derek.  Are these… _forts_?"   
            "They're for tomorrow."   
            "Tomorrow," Stiles echoed slowly.   
He thought about it for a moment.  
            "We're having a snowball fight!" he yelled, jumping on Derek.   
Derek laughed, arms looping under his thighs to pull him up.   
            "We are."   
Stiles' cheeks ached from how hard he was smiling.  Or maybe it was from the cold.   
            "Okay, I love you again," he said, kissing Derek quickly.   
            "What a relief," Derek mumbled against his lips.

Dinner was ready by the time they stumbled in, brushing snow off each other in the process.   
Stiles felt sort of…whole.  
More than he was used to at least.  
It was like he belonged here.   
Of course there was every possibility that most of it was coming from Derek.   
Stiles wasn't sure he minded either way.   
Over dinner everyone discussed the snowball fight, more like war, that was happening tomorrow.  There were several more forts sprinkled over the whole territory and nearly the entire pack was participating.  
Derek reassured Stiles that they wouldn't be leaving the Hale fort, seeing as the closest fort was nearly five miles away.   
Stiles had to laugh at that, shaking his head.   
            "Werewolves," he rolled his eyes.  
            "There's hardly a point if we're all sharing the same field," Amelia said, rolling her eyes in return.   
            "Yeah keep acting like you're not scared Stiles, you're going down hard.  You'll cry snowflakes," Aaron cut in.   
Stiles' nose wrinkled.  
            "That doesn't even make sense."   
            "Ask me if I care."   
Stiles flicked a pea at him instead.   
            "Don't worry Stiles, Derek and I got your back," Will told him, leaning across the table for a high five.  
Stiles slapped his palm, reminded of Scott once again.   
            "Alright children, Stiles, everyone ready for dessert?" Beth interrupted before any serious arguments could break out.   
            "I am hardly a child," Aaron exhaled, scandalized.   
            "Of course, now be a dear and fetch the cake from the kitchen."   
Aaron scowled but did as he was told.

…

Stiles slept restlessly and woke alone.  He could hear everyone at breakfast if he strained hard enough.  He sighed to himself and waited several more seconds before sitting up and stretching.  
It was another minute or two before he remembered the forts waiting outside.   
A smile stretched his lips slowly.  
Today would be a good day, he could feel it.   
Stiles dressed fairly quickly before hurrying down the stairs and grabbing a chair.   
There was still food luckily and he ate even as others were clearing their plates from the table.  
Derek dropped a glass of orange juice in front of him, affectionate smile in place as he did.   
Stiles smiled too, glad to have a distraction from his father's frown and Henry setting down a fresh mug of coffee in front of him.   
He drank half the juice in one gulp and thought about all the snow waiting outside.   
            "Make sure you bundle up before you go Stiles," Beth said, as if she could read his mind.  "And don't any of you be too hard on him.  He's more fragile than you are."   
            "We know Mom," Aaron sighed, leaning in to kiss her cheek.  "I'm gonna go find a good vantage point."   
            "You do that," she smiled before looking back to Stiles.  "You be careful Stiles, I'm serious."   
Stiles cheeks heated and he glanced down to his plate, focusing on cutting a bite of egg.  
            "Yeah okay," he mumbled before shoving it in his mouth.   
            "Too bad you didn't bring your gear," Derek said, sinking into the chair next to him.  He bumped his shoulder against Stiles' and Stiles shot him a quick smile.   
            "Oh that's right.  You're first…line, right?"   
Stiles nodded.  
"Very impressive," Beth nodded and Stiles had a vision of her ruffling his hair.   
He couldn't help a small laugh.  
            "Thank you."  
Pushing one last forkful of egg into his mouth he gathered his plate and stood.  
            "Thank you for breakfast," he said, carefully speaking around the egg.   
            "You don't have to thank me Stiles," she laughed, "I have to make the food anyways.  But I suppose it's nice to hear."  She did ruffle his hair then and Stiles blushed before gently ducking out of the way.   
            "Need to go get bundled up," he called over his shoulder, heading back for the stairs.

It had snowed more last night.  
Stiles could barely make out his footprints.  
            "Come on," Derek said, tossing his arm over Stiles' shoulders and tugging him closer.  "Stop thinking so much.  Let's just have fun."  
            "Yeah okay," Stiles agreed slowly, not admitting that he was still worried about his father.  
Maybe it was just being away from home but-  
Derek gave him a shake.  
            "I can feel you thinking.  Stop it."  
Stiles closed his eyes briefly and exhaled.  
There was only so much he could do and he'd already done it.  
            "You're right," he admitted.  "I know."  
            "Alright so do you want to start in the fort or try and ambush anyone coming for our flag?"

Two hours later Stiles was fairly sure he was never going to feel the tip of his nose again.  
Derek had snuck off to see if anyone was nearby so he was left with his pile of snowballs.  
Stiles inhaled carefully and glanced around again.  Just because he didn't see anyone didn't mean no one was there.  Stiles only wished he wasn't at such a massive disadvantage.  He also really wished Derek would hurry his ass up and get back.  Couldn't werewolves sneak quickly?  Wasn't it kind of what they were built for?   
Still, Derek didn't appear.  
Stiles thought about huffing out a breath in irritation but decided to remain silent.   
Again he thought that his efforts to remain quiet were probably pointless but if he got hit for being an idiot and fooling around he was going to be really mad at himself.  Not to mention he'd probably never be able to live it down.  
He cast another glance around, squinting against the glare of the sun on the snow.   
            "Stiles!"   
There was barely time to duck before two snowballs whizzed past, rapid fire.  
Stiles rolled, sputtering as he got a face full of snow and trying to stay low to the ground.  
There was a quiet impact and a huff of breath.  
"You're out!" Derek declared, laughing.   
Aaron shoved him off, throwing a handful of snow before rolling to his feet.  
            "Fine, fine," he grumbled, "I'm out."   
He pushed Derek, apparently for good measure.  
Derek simply laughed again, moving to help Stiles up.   
            "How did you not hear me behind you, I snapped like three branches."   
            "Four actually," Aaron said, flicking more snow off his coat.   
            "Wha-"  
Stiles flinched at the impact, ducking behind Derek fully. 

            "And now you're out," Aaron offered gleefully.  
            "Mom!" Derek growled.   
Stiles peeked and sure enough there she was, snowball cradled in her bare hand.   
            "You can't be a body shield Derek," she pointed out, lips curling.   
            "I could be," Derek said, crossing his arms.  "There's no rules against it."   
            "Fine," Beth said, tugging Aaron in front of her with her free hand.   
There was a beat of silence as they all reassessed their situation.   
Stiles realized his pyramid of snowballs was not only about three feet away, but toppled over.   
He scrambled for an idea, any idea.   
First he needed a snowball.   
Crouching quickly he gathered snow clumsily, patting it as fast as possible before shoving to his feet again.   
There was another beat of tense silence.  
            "I have to say, I didn't see this coming," Aaron observed, one eyebrow lifted.   
            "What are we going to do about this?" Beth questioned.   
            "We could," Stiles hazarded, "join forces and head back to the fort?"   
Aaron snorted but Beth was quiet.  
Derek remained perfectly still, waiting.  
"I mean," Stiles continued after another moment, "we are all family, right?"   
He forced himself to breathe evenly, willing his heart not to beat too fast.   
After all, he wasn't lying.  Yet.   
            "I suppose we could," Beth murmured.  
Aaron smirked.   
            "You'd have to drop your snowball first," Stiles said, "seeing as you have better reflexes."   
            "Yes, I suppose you're right."   
Stiles debated internally.  Left or right?   
Moving precisely, Beth extended her arm out to the side and opened her fingers, rotating her wrist until the snowball fell, breaking open on the ground. 

Stiles shoved Derek to the side, throwing his snowball just left of Beth's head, diving to the ground as she dodged it.  He didn't let himself panic, forming the poorest snowball of his life and firing again.   
Aaron batted it down and Stiles wasted a precious moment gaping at him.  
            "Cheater!" Derek growled, tackling Aaron again.   
Stiles ducked down for another snowball, eyes finding Beth just in time for a snowball to smack, rather harmlessly, into his chest.  He sighed quietly.   
Dropping his snowball and dusting himself off he had to laugh.  
            "I did pretty well for a human I guess."   
            "You did exceedingly well for a human," Beth told him, grinning.   
            "You really didn't stand a chance," Aaron called from the ground, protests muffled as Derek shoved his face back into the snow.   
            "Let's go back to the house and I'll make hot chocolate.  Extra marshmallows for you Stiles."   
Stiles couldn't help the childish thrill that ran through him.  _Extra_ marshmallows.   
            "I guess I can forgive you," he said agreeably, "for extra marshmallows."   
She laughed and looped an arm over his shoulders.  
            "Come on boys," she called over her shoulder for Derek and Aaron, still rolling on the ground. 

They had hot chocolate and cookies, even though it would probably spoil their lunch.   
Stiles felt all of about seven years old and he was surprisingly okay with that.  It was nice not to worry.   
Besides what else were the holidays for?   
It was time for dinner before everyone finally returned to the house and the meal was spent with accounts of the battle that had most likely been glorified at least a little.   
Derek made it well known that Aaron had cheated and Aaron was not repentant in the least.  
Stiles didn't know why he'd expected him to be.     
He and Will helped with the dishes after dinner, halfheartedly flicking soap bubbles at each other.   
Derek's father was quietly amused by them.  
Stiles was okay with this too.

He didn't so much feel like a missing piece of Derek's family as he just felt…comfortable.  Like he _could_ fit here.  Maybe just as well as he fit in Beacon Hills.   
It was sort of a comforting thought.   
Like hot chocolate.  
And with that thought in mind Stiles climbed the stairs to seek Derek out.   
There was a rustling behind the door just before Stiles pushed it open.  He turned to see Derek lying too casually in bed.  
            "Hey," he offered.  
            "Hi," Derek said, running a hand through his hair.  
            "What 'cha you doing?"   
            "Nothing."   
            "Why's your jacket on the floor?"   
            "Is it?"   
Stiles rolled his eyes.  
            "Yeah.  It is."   
He crossed to the bundle of leather and folded it half heartedly before laying it across the foot of the bed.   
"That's the story you're sticking with?"  
            "Yup."   
Stiles sighed at him.   
            "Fine."   
Stiles flopped down on the bed, half on Derek, before kicking his shoes off.  
Derek was quiet a moment.  
            "You're letting it go?"   
            "For now."   
Derek hummed and kissed his hair.

            "Stiles."  
Stiles blinked twice.  
            "Mmm.  Still dark.  Go 'way."   
            "Come on," Derek breathed in his ear, "I want you to come with me."   
            "I am with you.  Bed.  See?  Right here," Stiles said, snuggling closer.   
            "No," Derek laughed softly, "I want to show you something."   
Stiles took a moment to wake up a bit.   
            "I take it this is important," he yawned.  
Derek laughed again, nervous.  
            "Yes," he admitted.   
Derek pressed his mouth to Stiles' temple, a brief kiss.  
"Come on," he said again.   
Stiles sighed but willed himself to wake up, stretching just a bit and blinking a few more times.   
Derek eased from the bed and tossed Stiles a pair of jeans, tugging his jacket on.  He grabbed a lantern off the desk and set it on the bed for Stiles.  
"I'll meet you out front," he whispered.   
            "Okay," Stiles said, blinking deliberately again.  "Yeah, I'm coming."   
The chill in the air helped quite a bit and he shivered into a pair of jeans before finding a sweatshirt and tugging it on over his too thin tee.  He shoved shoes on without socks and grabbed his coat, zipping it halfway before grabbing the lantern Derek had left.   
He took the stairs slowly, not wanting to fall or wake anyone unnecessarily.   
Derek was sitting on the top step.  He pushed to his feet and took Stiles' free hand saying,  
            "It's not far."   
            "Can I ask where we're going?" Stiles questioned, pressing into Derek's side.   
            "I can't think of a non creepy way to say it," Derek said, glancing away.   
They walked in silence for a few moments and Stiles thought he knew anyways.

They settled close together on a bench.   
Stiles clicked the lantern off, more soothed by the darkness.  
There was a tree seated between them and a drop off.  Stiles had no idea how steep the drop was because all he could see beyond the tree was blackness.  
            "Sometimes it still hurts to come here," Derek said finally.  "But when I think about the fact that she saved my life, that she gave up everything for me," he paused, exhaling sharply, "and it's a different kind of pain.  Better I think.  Does that make sense?"   
            "Yeah," Stiles exhaled.  He didn't know what else to say so he just pressed closer, resting his head on Derek's shoulder.   
            "I'm really glad you came," Derek said, pressing another quick kiss to his hair.  
Stiles wasn't sure if he meant to Maine or out here.  Maybe it was both.   
            "I'm really glad you came home and worked things out with your family.  They're really great."   
            "And I'm glad you like them.  All your worrying was for nothing."   
Stiles laughed quickly.  
            "You just had to throw that in there, didn’t you?"   
            "What?  I was right."   
Stiles laughed again, nudging him.  
            "Oh, shut up.  You always ruin our moments."   
            "I think it's more like a fifty-fifty split."   
            "Shut _up_ ," Stiles groaned.   
            "Alright, alright.  I have something for you anyways."   
            "But it's not Christmas yet," Stiles protested automatically.   
            "Well it's not your present, not really."   
Stiles squinted at him.   
            "Alright…" 

Derek shifted away from him slightly, digging into his pocket.   
            "Okay, close your eyes," he said softly.    
Stiles' lips curled but he complied anyways.  
There was a very quiet rustling and something settled around his neck lightly.   
            "Can I look now?"   
            "Yeah," Derek said after another beat.   
It was a simple necklace, from what little Stiles could see of it in the darkness.  He held the thin pendant between his thumb and index finger.   
            "Thanks," he said, regretting turning off the lantern for a moment.  He really wanted to see Derek's face.  He could still feel Derek's nervousness but there was a growing sense of contentment.  Stiles wondered at it for another few moments before settling into Derek again.  
            "I love you," Derek exhaled simply.   
Stiles smiled again.  
            "Me too."

Stiles was one of the first ones up, which was admittedly strange.  He fiddled around with the coffee maker while Derek showered.  
            "Stiles," Beth greeted, shock evident in her tone, "you're awake."   
            "Yeah," he shot her a quick smile.   
            "And…gutting my coffee maker."   
            "Yeah," he laughed once, "I guess I am."   
He put two pieces back on the counter carefully before half turning,  
"I'll leave it to you I guess."  
She opened her mouth to respond, pausing perfectly.   
Stiles froze in reaction, right hand still in midair.   
            "I'm sorry," she smiled, "I wasn't expecting…that."   
            "What?" he questioned automatically.  
            "The necklace," she said softly. "I had no idea he'd kept it."   
She closed the distance between them and pulled him into a hug.   
"Oh, I'm getting so emotional," she laughed, giving another squeeze before releasing him.   
            "I kind of assumed there was a story," Stiles admitted, blushing.  
Beth nodded once, tucking hair behind her ear.  
            "I'm sure he'll tell you."  She laughed again before waving him away from the coffee maker.   
Taking the circular pendant between his fingers again Stiles drifted out of the kitchen.  He figured it'd take a few minutes for the coffee maker to be put back together and at least another two for the coffee to brew so he headed upstairs. 

Derek was still in the bathroom, door cracked to let steam seep out as he brushed his teeth.  
Stiles edged through the door and hugged him from behind, leaning his cheek on Derek's still slick shoulder.   
            "Good morning," he said, partially to distract himself from the racing of his heart, "officially."   
Derek spit into the sink before laying a hand over Stiles'.  
            "Good morning," he returned, quietly amused.   
            "I might have killed your mom's coffee maker."   
            "I'm sure it will be fine.  We can always get her a new one for Christmas."   
Stiles chuckled into Derek's back.  
            "Yeah shopping the day before Christmas is such a great idea why didn't I think of that?"   
            "Well you can't have done anything my father hasn't done."   
            "Your father doesn't know how to work it either?"   
            "The stories are massively entertaining."   
            "But I thought he was the alpha of one of the most powerful packs in North America."  
            "He is."  
            "And he can't work that coffee maker?"   
            "Not really, no."   
            "Oh," Stiles exhaled, "well that makes me feel better."   
            "I'm glad," Derek said, turning slowly.  "I have to get dressed."   
Stiles dropped his arms.  
            "And what's the plan for today?"   
            "Pack visits.  Instead of Dad going to them, they come to us."   
            "That sounds…thoroughly exhausting."   
            "It is.  But in a good way."  He kissed Stiles' forehead before slipping past and heading back to his room.

Stiles was on his second cup of coffee when the first visitors arrived.   
They brought bacon and muffins and while Stiles thought it was a strange combination, he knew better than to complain.   
Plus the muffins were fresh baked and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had fresh muffins.  Luckily everyone thought his groan of appreciation was cute and the teasing for shoving an entire muffin in his mouth was minimal.   
On pure instinct he glanced around for his father, only to see he wasn't downstairs yet.  
Stiles grabbed another muffin while he could still get away with it.   
It turned out that everyone visiting brought food and within the next hour Stiles was staring at the largest breakfast spread he'd ever seen.   
He wasn't even sure how it all fit in the kitchen and dining room.  
He wasn't sure how all the visitors fit inside the house either.   
As he'd been practicing nearly his whole life, he hid his nerves by eating.   
It wasn't that anyone was rude, quite the opposite.  Stiles supposed they really _couldn't_ be rude.  He was the mate to the alpha's son after all.   
It was just the sheer volume of people in the house.   
It was very nearly wall to wall bodies and that was with most of the kids outside, playing in the snow.   
Just after noon Stiles snuck upstairs and laid down, stomach stuffed so full it ached.   
  
He was dozing lightly when Derek appeared.  
            "Oh thank god," Derek breathed, "here you are, help."   
That woke Stiles up a bit and he had to blink a few times, wondering if he was dreaming.   
            "Is that-"  
            "I couldn't really say no," Derek insisted earnestly.  
            "Why are you holding a _baby_?" Stiles hissed.   
            "This old lady just comes up to me and says 'would you like to babysit' and I'm like well I've never really babysat before I mean I've been _around_  babies and then she just handed me this baby!"   
He hefted the baby a few inches higher as if to show him, hands just under its armpits.  
"I don't know how to hold it," Derek added, a pucker appearing between his eyebrows.   
            "You have younger siblings," Stiles pointed out, sitting up.  
            "Well yeah but it was never up to me to look after them.  I think I fed Will like…once."   
Stiles supposed he had a point there.   
            "Okay well, here."  
He arranged the pillows against the headboard and punched them a few times to get an indent.   
When Derek didn't move he gestured to the pillows.   
"Maybe he'll fall asleep."   
            "Right."   
Stiles was slightly terrified as Derek edged onto the bed with the baby.   
At least it was a big baby, about eighteen months Stiles guessed, so things could be worse.   
  
The baby settled against the pillows quietly, blinking huge brown eyes at them.   
            "Well at least he seems like a good baby," Stiles offered.  
Derek smiled slightly, heaving a relieved breath.   
            "I'm just glad I didn't drop him.  My job is done, right?"   
Stiles had to laugh at that.  
            "Pretty sure you're supposed to keep him from crying too."   
            "You mean _we're_ right?"   
Stiles narrowed his eyes.  
            "Is this some sort of test to see if I'm okay with kids?  Because the answer is no.  Not yet at least."   
Derek's eyes widened comically.  
            "No.  Dear god no.  I was just handed a baby I swear."   
            "You and women," Stiles huffed, too relieved to really sell it.   
The baby cooed, reaching a hand towards Derek.   
            "Oh god what do you think he wants?" Derek questioned.   
Stiles laughed again.  
            "Probably something to play with.  Why aren't you a natural with kids?  The women of Beacon Hills will be so disappointed."   
            "You're not helping," Derek informed him, easing a yellow and green rattle from his back pocket.   
The baby seemed entirely unimpressed until Derek shook it lightly, then he laughed and reached for it with both hands.   
"Maybe I am a natural," Derek smiled.   
Stiles faked a scowl quickly.

When they were relieved from baby duty they made their way back downstairs to collapse on a couch.   
More and more visitors came, until Stiles thought that the entire state of Maine was coming through.  
He stuck pretty close to Derek this time and picked off his plate rather than getting another of his own.  He'd probably already gained two pounds just that morning.  He thought of returning home with a moment of passing dread.  At least he wouldn't have to weigh in like the wrestlers.   
But that was still a few days away anyways.   
            "Come on," Derek said, pulling him off the couch, "time to pick a tree."   
            "A tree?" Stiles questioned, half incredulous, "It's Christmas Eve!"   
            "It's tradition," Derek corrected with a smile.   
            "So you only have a tree for two days?"   
            "We leave it up till New Years.  Come on."   
Stiles sighed but let himself be pulled up the stairs where they tugged on enough layers to ward off the cold.   
            "I just thought you didn't do the whole tree thing," Stiles admitted, following Derek back down.   
            "We don't do the whole twinkle light thing, those are annoying.  But yes we do Christmas trees."  
            "So who chops it down?"  
Derek craned his neck to look at him.  
            "Chops it down?" he questioned innocently.   
Nearly twenty minutes Stiles watched as a tree was taken down with a single swipe of claws and a push.   
He did his best not to gape but Derek still laughed at him.   
            "You'd think I would have seen that coming."   
            "Humans," Aaron smirked, "really."  
            "We still have to get this tree home and make the garland," Derek's father reminded them.  This spurred Derek and Aaron into action, each of them grabbing branches at the base before starting to drag it along.   
            "If I ask where this is going are you going to laugh at me," Stiles questioned, half debating climbing into the tree and making it his personal sled.   
            "Front yard," Derek responded simply.   
            "Ah," Stiles exhaled, stepping away from the tree when Derek shot him a warning glare.   
He really knew him too well.

It was simpler than Stiles thought it would be.   
In no time at all the tree was placed in the hole dug for it and brushed off.  Ornaments and actual popcorn and cranberry garlands were brought out.   
Once again Stiles was struck with a surreal sense of falling into a Christmas movie.   
How did werewolves do Christmas better than any humans he knew?  How was that allowed in the laws of the universe?   
Maybe werewolves invented Christmas.   
Stiles didn't ask, he was tempted, but that was the kind of thing Aaron would never let go.  In this case, it was better to stay silent.  
            "So if you don't do the whole twinkly lights thing-" Stiles cut off as Derek slapped a candlestick in his hand.  
Derek pointed to the gold flat ornaments before Stiles could ask anything else.   
"Oh," Stiles allowed, stepping forward to slip the candle into the holder closest to him.  "Real candles.  Wow."   
            "Real candles," Derek confirmed, handing him another.   
            "The tree doesn't catch on fire?"  
            "No," Derek smiled.   
            "Oh," Stiles echoed, lips curling.   
            "You'll get the hang of it eventually." 

By the time the tree was fully decorated Stiles was exhausted.  
He nearly made Derek carry him up to bed.   
            "We should sleep in tomorrow.  Totally."   
Derek chuckled in his ear, one arm slipping around his stomach.  
            "Tomorrow's Christmas Stiles.  Presents to open."   
            "We can open them," he broke off to yawn, "any time."   
            "You realize staying up to argue about it is just going to make you more tired when we have to get up tomorrow morning."   
Stiles groaned at him, halfheartedly slapping his hand over Derek's jaw.  
            "Shut up."   
Derek chuckled again before tugging him closer.  
They fell asleep like that.

Derek was right.   
The room was still pink with the dawn when Aaron threw their door open so wide it banged into the wall before howling, literally howling, to wake them up.   
            "Ugh, _asshole_ ," Stiles groaned.  
Derek threw something at his younger brother; Stiles didn't bother to look what it was.  
            "Okay he's gone, we got like ten minutes."   
            ''I heard that!" Aaron yelled from the hall, howling again.   
Stiles yanked a pillow over his head.               
            "I hate him," he muttered, not caring that Derek probably couldn't hear him.   
Derek tugged him closer, letting him keep the pillow, and rubbed his hand up and down Stiles' back, trying to warm him.   
After another couple seconds Stiles abandoned the pillow and blinked up at him.  
"Merry Christmas, Derek," he sighed.  
Derek smiled softly.  
            "Merry Christmas."   
Stiles wiggled up for a kiss before sighing again.   
            "Is it even six yet?"   
            "It's just after seven actually."  
            "What a relief," Stiles said dryly.   
            "If you want coffee we'd better get moving."   
            "Or you could bring me some," Stiles suggested, eyebrows pulling up.   
Derek watched him a moment.  
            "Fine.  But you'll owe me."   
Stiles grinned slowly.  
            "I think I can handle that." 

They spread out on couches, what was more or less a mountain of presents in the center of the room.   
            "Okay, who's passing out presents?" Beth questioned, "Mom? Curtis?  Anyone?"   
            "I will," Aaron offered, all but lunging for the presents.   
            "He really likes Christmas, doesn't he," Stiles observed flatly.   
That brought a few chuckles and a green present flying towards his head.   
Luckily Derek reacted in time because Stiles was half to taking a sip of coffee.   
"Thanks," he said, setting his mug aside and taking the medium box from Derek.  He set it in his lap and waited politely, unsure how the present opening was going to go with this many people.  
The McCalls and the Stilinskis normally combined their Christmases but still.   
Once everyone had a present they rotated around the room before repeating the process.   
When Stiles opened a present to see the new Nook laying in his lap he blinked at it in confusion.  Then he glanced to Derek before looking to his father.  
"You knew!"  
            "Yes I did," he replied unapologetically.  "And now you two didn't get each other the same present.  You're welcome."   
Stiles huffed.  
            "I was gonna get you this," he tried to explain after a moment.  
            "I gathered that," Derek said, eyes crinkled up as he smiled.  
            "And Dad talked me out of it."  
            "You're welcome," his father said again.   
            "I guess it worked out then," Derek said, still smiling.   
            "Thank you for my present," Stiles said, leaning over to press a kiss to Derek's cheek.   
            "You're welcome."   
            "Come on open yours, it's too heavy to be a sweater," Aaron goaded.   
Derek kicked at him before ripping the paper off the speakers Stiles had gotten him.  
            "Thanks," Derek said with a smile, "it's perfect."   
Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.   
            "Yeah, okay."

After presents there was a late breakfast of leftovers.  Then they piled back into the living room for _It's a Wonderful Life_.  This was followed by _A Christmas Story_ and more leftovers.   
All in all everyone was content.  
Stiles was sure it wasn't always like this around the Hale house but it was really nice, if not perfect.   
And it wasn't like they'd be living _with_ the Hales anyways.  He was sure they'd have their own place.  In any case it wasn't something to worry about now.  He still had college to figure out first.   
It would be nice getting back to a house that wasn't full of werewolves though.  Hearing that good always had its disadvantages.   
            "Packing already?" Derek questioned.   
            "Well I don't want to be rushing last minute," Stiles said, pulling another shirt from the drawer and crossing to the open suitcase.  "I'd much rather relax."   
Derek arched a brow.   
            "Trying to make sure you don't forget anything this time?"   
            "Maybe I _wanted_ to share toothbrushes."   
            "Uh huh," Derek let out, grabbing his suitcase as well.  "I don't know that we have enough room for all the presents."   
            "The presents are coming back with us?" Stiles questioned innocently.   
            "Ha ha."   
            "Okay so I might not have thought about that."  
Will came in, setting a suitcase down before glancing around.  
            "Mom said you can borrow this," he said.  
Stiles laughed.  Werewolves.   
            "Thanks Mom," Derek said, rolling his eyes.   
Stiles laughed again. 

Once Christmas was over the remaining time passed very quickly for them.

            "You're coming back, right?" Beth questioned one hand on either side of Stiles' face, "Spring break?  Right?"   
Stiles did his best to smile before nodding.  
            "Yup.  Just before Easter."   
            "Okay good," she said, voice oddly pitched.  "I'm really glad you're part of the family now Stiles."   
She tugged him into a hug and rubbed his back briefly.  
            "Me too."   
            "I'll miss you too Stiles," Aaron said, voice thick with fake emotion, "I'll count the minutes."   
            "Oh shut up," Stiles laughed, hugging him anyways.  
Will hugged him next, pulling back to bump fists too.  
            "Maybe I'll come visit you guys sometime."   
            "That'd be cool," Stiles returned, carefully not looking to his parents for confirmation.  That was between them.   
He blushed when Amelia hugged him, which okay was weird, but she was really pretty.   
It was sort of instinct.  
Derek's father shook his hand.  
The grandparents waved.   
Annabelle gave him a hug and a pat on the cheek that was incredibly sticky.   
Emily apologized for her daughter and Peter hugged him from the side, taking him by surprise.   
            "Hey, go be creepy over there," Stiles told him, pointing a mittened hand.   
Peter smirked and saluted.   
Stiles shuffled a bit closer to the car.   
"So creepy," he exhaled, well aware it was heard.   
Derek spent a bit longer saying goodbye to his family but finally crossed to the car as well.   
            "Oh, call when you land!" Beth called, hands cupped around her mouth.   
Derek laughed.  
            "We will!"       

…

It was easier the second time around.   
Shorter too, but mostly easier.  
Stiles hauled his bag to the front door before fishing out his keys and struggling to open the door.  
Derek was behind him with the other two bags tapping his foot by the time Stiles actually managed it.  
            "I don't appreciate your 'tude," Stiles huffed, immensely relieved to enter an otherwise empty house.  
Scott still had Gus and his father had a two day layover slash vacation thing in St. Louis.   
Stiles wasn't thinking about it.   
            "You're in my way," Derek grunted, hip checking him to the side.   
            "Such a joyous reunion we're having already."   
            "I smell like sweaty airport," Derek informed him, dropping the suitcases at the base of the stairs and disappearing up them.  
            "Well I have to admit…that was not what I was hoping for."  
Stiles wandered into the kitchen to find the fridge mostly empty, opening it on autopilot before remembering the shopping list was still stuck to the front.   
"Also not what I was hoping for."   
He supposed home wasn't meant to be glamorous. 

The shower was running upstairs and Stiles flopped down onto his bed, which was actually made for once.   
Toeing his shoes off he sighed and closed his eyes.  
Derek fell on to him still soaking wet.  
            "Sorry," he hummed, kissing Stiles' neck.  "You could have joined me in the shower by the way."  
            "Yes reunion sex in a four by four stall, excellent."   
            "I'm just saying," Derek offered with a slow grin.   
He tugged at the hem of Stiles' shirt until Stiles sat up, shrugging out of his hoodie and letting Derek strip his shirt off.   
Derek kissed him, teeth tugging his bottom lip before releasing it.   
Stiles groaned, one hand slipping down to find Derek's jeans were already open.   
            "God I missed you," he huffed on a shallow laugh, "that makes sense right?"   
            "Missed you too," Derek offered, ripping his jeans open.   
Stiles half wanted to mutter something about only having so many clothes but abandoned the thought as Derek slotted their hips together and rolled down.  
He bit down on his lips and groaned, head rolling back into the pillow. 

            "Tell Scott to go away," Derek muttered, folding Stiles' fingers around his phone.   
            "Mm-what?" Stiles said.  
            "He just pulled in, tell him to go away," Derek mostly growled the last few words.   
Stiles' fingers tumbled over the screen sending **mno** before **NO** and finally **se x gtfo**.   
The phone vibrated in his hand but he was already tossing it to the floor.  
Derek slid down his body, pulling his jeans off before lifting Stiles' leg over his shoulder.   
Stiles' hips rolled up, spine arching helplessly.   
Teeth dug into the inside of his thigh and Stiles nearly screamed.   
            "Derek-fuck," he managed, one hand fisting in the sheet, the other falling to Derek's shoulder and scrabbling for purchase.   
He couldn't believe it had only been six days.   
"Will you please get in me?"   
Derek growled against his skin, teeth nipping again.   
Thoughts of being covered in bites and marks had Stiles shuddering, releasing another weak groan.   
            "I can't believe you just said please," Derek teased, opening the lube and pressing two fingers gently against him.  
Stiles pulled at him ineffectually, groaning again.   
"Have to do this part slow," Derek warned, "or the claws will come out."   
Stiles wriggled once before forcing himself to settle.   
At least he'd had practice with this.   
Derek eased his fingers in, curling them enough to make Stiles groan before pulling them back out and twisting slightly.  He pushed in again, rubbing at the rim with his thumb.   
Inhaling deeply, Stiles tried to spread his legs further.  
It was incredibly hard to stay relaxed.  Relaxed and still.  Relaxed or still.  
Stiles decided to focus on breathing. 

Claws sinking into his hips were a relief.   
Derek pressed in with two sharp thrusts, Stiles' arms winding around his neck.      
For a moment Derek simply stayed as he was and they both breathed, hips pressed together.  
The first roll of Derek's hips was slow, his exhale even slower.  He caught Stiles' mouth in another kiss, muffling a low moan.  
            "Round two is slow," Stiles breathed into his mouth, "remember?"   
Derek squeezed his hips.  
            "I'd hate to be so predictable."   
Stiles yanked on his hair, delighting in the resulting growl.  
            "Stop teasing me it's been like a week and the fact that I'm still coherent is uhhh-" he broke off to moan and bite his lip as Derek thrust sharply.  "Yes," Stiles exhaled, muscles loosening in pleasure.  
Derek's lips closed over his pulse point and Stiles never wanted to move again.  He didn't think he wanted anything other than this ever again.  
This feeling lasted through the next several thrusts before urgency began building again.   
"Derek, please…"   
            "What?"  At least he was breathless too.   
            "You know what I want," Stiles said, slapping his shoulder.   
Derek pressed in again, settling for a second.   
Stiles could feel the start of a swell, tongue sweeping over his bottom lip.   
            "Yeah?" Derek kissed his jaw before pulling back again.  
Stiles nearly howled, back bowing as the muscles in his legs clenched in an effort to keep him close.   
            "Hate you," Stiles panted, "s-so fucking much."   
            "Mm…I know," Derek returned, rolling in again.  
   
Stiles clenched his muscles and Derek was definitely bigger.  He groaned weakly, pulling Derek down for a kiss.   
Derek nipped at his mouth, a growl rumbling in his chest.   
Stiles whined as he pulled back again.  Not even his teeth digging into his lip could keep him quiet.   
The next thrust was more of a stretch and Stiles clenched again, still trying to keep him in.   
The drag out was even slower and Stiles wanted to scream, groaning instead.   
Derek's knot came to rest right against him, and Derek paused there.   
Stiles' nails dug into his shoulders.   
            "Come on, come on."   
Derek pressed forward slightly before pulling back again.   
He repeated this twice, panting into Stiles' neck.   
Finally he slid in until their bodies locked together.      
The sound Stiles made was unidentifiable.  It was mostly surprise followed by pleasure and just a hint of pain.  
Derek canted his hips back, tugging on Stiles as their bodies held together.   
Stiles whined, one hand dropping to Derek's hip to yank him back.   
"Sadist," Stiles hissed.   
Derek huffed out a shallow laugh.  
            "Shut up."   
He kissed Stiles, pressing closer and trailing his fingertips up Stiles' ribs.   
Stiles inhaled carefully, skin pushing against Derek's claws.  He pressed his hips up, trying to get some friction.   
Derek shifted against him, groaning quietly as Stiles gasped. 

He spread his legs wider, knowing they were going to hurt later but unable to care.   
Derek was smiling down at him, kissing him as a hand wrapped around his cock.  
Stiles couldn't stay still, wriggling and trying to press up into Derek's hold.  He more or less ended up trapping Derek's hand between them and grinding into him.  It was clumsy but effective and finally he hit the right angle, aware distantly what was just about to happen.  
The release was sharp and his eyes slammed closed as he trembled with it.   
His hips couldn't help rocking slightly in the aftershocks and he forced his fingers loose.      
Derek buried his face in Stiles throat and breathed deeply.   
Stiles smiled languidly, still panting for air. 

After showering and pulling the comforter back on the bed to cover the ruined sheets they collapsed to the bed.  
            "You smell like me," Derek said, pulling him closer, "and I smell like you.  I feel much better."   
Stiles laughed.  
            "I didn't know you were so possessive."  
            "Yes you did."   
            "Yeah, I guess I did."   
Derek's fingertips drifted along the chain around Stiles' neck, coming up with the pendant.  He gazed at it for a moment.  
            "Laura got me this," he said quietly.   
Stiles went very still, brain scrambling for a way to react, any way to react.   
"Alpha," Derek said softly, drifting over the top swirl, "Beta and Omega.  But she said," he paused to smile, "that it was really our parents, us, and the pack."   
            "Derek I-" _can't take this_ he might have said.  
            "I haven't worn it since she died.  But it's nice seeing it again."   
            "Is that where the hole in the lining of your jacket came from?" Stiles asked after a long moment.  
            "I couldn't get rid of it either," Derek said by way of explanation.   
            "Yeah."   
            "Do you mind?" Derek whispered.  
Stiles' heart was aching.   
            "No.  No.  I…don't know what to say."   
            "An even playing field for once," Derek said, brow arched.   
            "Ha ha," Stiles muttered, throat embarrassingly thick.

            "I really don't know what to say," Stiles said once he'd regained control of his voice.   
            "You don't have to say anything.  I wanted you to have it."  Derek looked as if he wanted to say more but didn't, letting the pendant settle against Stiles' chest again.   
Stiles sighed, half in self depreciation.   
Derek watched him a moment before tilting his chin up for a kiss.   
Stiles thought belatedly he really didn't have to say anything.   
 _I love you_ he could say.  
But Derek would only smile back at him.  
 _I know_.                        

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay.
> 
> I'm not going to apologize. I promised myself.
> 
> I really hope this is good guys, I know it's kind of choppy and super super fluffy (at least to me it is) but I had so much ground I wanted to cover and I never really got there...this fic had a plan of its own, just like always. Plus Christmas so enough fluff to kill a bear. Delivered. 
> 
> What else what else..
> 
> THANK YOU. THANK YOU THANK YOU.  
> I'll never be able to properly convey how much it means this story just..I don't even know. I never in a million years could have expected any of it. And I know some parts of it were rough, on all of us, but thank you for sticking with me.  
> Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. And I hope you enjoyed it at least half as much as I did. 
> 
> It's been over a year for me now and just...wow. It's pretty epic. 
> 
> Lastly I want to mention I did make a blog just for this fic, right now it doesn't have too much on it but I'm planning on putting drabbles up and I already have an outtake for it because it was way too much of a sideplot. So be sure to check that out OKAY AO3 HATES ME BUT IT'S YOUDONTSEESTRAIGHT.TUMBLR.COM OKAY. (I tried to hotlink it, I really did. Sorry I'm still a newb.)
> 
> Just thank you all so much. I can't remember the rest of what I had typed. But I'm stopping before I cry. Kbye.

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't believe this is non-con but that is less important than how the work is received by the audience. 
> 
> Time to move on.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] You Don't See Straight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524585) by [araline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/araline/pseuds/araline)




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